


The Dragon Rider

by Dandypony



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - How to Train Your Dragon Fusion, Angst, Betrayal, Dragons, Families of Choice, Hiccup is Tony, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Protective Toothless, Teenage Tony Stark, Tony is Hiccup, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2018-08-19 20:32:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 42
Words: 167,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8223908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dandypony/pseuds/Dandypony
Summary: Tony's family was gone, he was stranded on a miserable rock laughingly called an island populated with Vikings, and he was pinned beneath the paw of one of the most dangerous creatures on the planet.That was how Tony met his best friend, and the one who would stand by him through anything. Whether it be a dragon the size of a mountain, palladium poisoning, an alien invasion, or a group of superheros who always takes Toothless's favorite perches. HTTYD mixed with the Avengers.





	1. Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is How to Train Your Dragon mixed with the Avengers. I can't be the only one who sees the similarities between Hiccup and Tony. They're both engineers, (Medieval blacksmithing was basically their version of engineering, right?) they're both abnormally intelligent for their times and communities, they're both the only son of a powerful man, they're both unaccepted by their fathers (Before the first HTTYD movie), they are both part of a team of six (not including any Avengers that weren't part of the original movie), and both of their teams were protectors of their communities. Plus they're both sarcastic little shits. So, because Toothless is in this story and he is Tony's "superpower" Tony will not be Iron Man, but he will still have his tech and some parts of the Iron Man suit that he will use to fight with Toothless. Although most of the events of at least the first two movies will still happen, they will be different. This will start with the How to Train Your Dragon storyline, then go onto the Marvel movies. I am planning for eventual Steve/Tony, but for now the story is marked general. 
> 
> Obviously I own nothing. If I owned either of these movies it would be a lot easier to pay my tuition. Thanks for reading!

Tony’s head broke the surface was a strangled gasp. He desperately sucked down air, then choked when the ocean threw spray into his face. Spotting a piece of floating debris, he kicked over to it and was able to grab on and use it to keep his head above water. “Dad! Mom! Anyone?!” He shouted frantically. He had no idea where anyone else was, or if anyone else had even made it off the ship. He had been asleep in his room below deck when the explosion had gone off, and the expedition ship had shuddered and immediately began to list to the side. Everything had happened very fast after that, and he barely had time to stumble out of his room before it became clear the ship was going down, and fast.

“Dad!” Tony screamed again, but if there was an answer, it was stolen by the wind. He took a deep breath, and tried to find some calm. The water was freezing, and he couldn’t stay like this or he wouldn’t last until the sun came up. He had to find a way out of the water, and some way to get dry or he wouldn’t stand a chance. He began to kick at the water, trying to force his blood to keep circulating as well as move forward in search of something to keep him out of the ocean. It was a pitch black night, and the only light he had was the flames of the rapidly sinking ship. But he eventually spotted something reflective bobbing in the waves, and with hope rising, Tony desperately kicked towards it.

The bright, reflective package was the inflatable raft, tied with a long rope to the emergency kit. It must have been thrown from the ship after the explosion. Didn’t matter to Tony, he was just so damn grateful for something to go his way. He grabbed the rope attached to the package with shivering hands, and yanked with what strength he had left. The cord came free, and the raft quickly inflated itself. Tony eagerly swam to it, and, struggling, managed to drag himself onto it. He laid there too long, trying to catch his breath. Then, gathering his strength yet again, he dragged himself up and reeled in the emergency kit. He didn’t bother looking through all the supplies yet, he just dug until he found the package holding the aluminum blanket. He dragged the lightweight, crinkly thing over his shoulders, and took a breath.

“Is anyone out there?!” Tony shouted as loud as it could. He was met with silence, only the wind to keep him company. Okay, okay, calm down Stark, he thought firmly. He was a damn genius, he could find a way out of this. He was alone - _oh dear god his parents _\- “__ DAD! MOM!” Tony screamed, but once again, there was no answer. The wind had died down, and left no doubt about the lack of answer. Oh god, oh no, if they were dead, if they were dead he was truly alone. His dad was a bastard, and spent more time drinking and screaming at Tony than even trying to be a father, but he was indeed Tony’s father. And his mother, while not around much, had never been cruel to him. They were the only family he had, and now even if he managed to survive the night, he was alone. Okay, okay, freak out later, he told himself. For now, he had to try to survive the night, and hopefully it would warm up a bit when the sun came up.

The ship was nearly gone beneath the waves by now, and Tony had to act fast to get what he would need throughout the night before the light from the fires were gone. He opened the emergency kit again. Inside, there was some dried food, four bottles of water, three more of the aluminum blankets, matches - what good would they do him in the middle of the ocean? - a wind-up flashlight, a flare gun, a mirror, some line and fish hooks, and a pocket knife. For now, Tony removed the extra blankets, one bottle of water, one package of food, the flare gun, the flashlight, and the pocket knife. He wrapped the blankets around himself the best he could, and opened the bottle of water. Once the water touched his lips, he realized how dehydrated the salt water and his desperate swim had made him and it took all his willpower not to chug down the entire bottle. He didn’t know how long he would be stuck there until the distress signal the ship would have automatically sent out would be received and help would arrive. So for now, he only drank a forth of the bottle, and settled down to wait.

He had been so excited when his father told him he would be going on the yearly search. His father rarely went on these trips personally anymore, but he never stopped his research on where Captain America’s body could be. He still paid for a ship to go out every year and hunt, but this time he felt he had a solid lead and wanted to personally go with the crew. The ship had been discreetly named _The Seeker_ in hopes of keeping the search quiet. No Stark name splashed across this ship, although Howard did in fact own it. Howard had decided that now that Tony was 14 and freshly graduated from high school, he was old enough to go along on the search. The Seeker and her crew were searching waters even more north than where Captain America was believed to have gone into the ice, but Howard thought the ocean may have moved the plane over the years. Whatever the reasoning, Tony was sure cursing that fact now as he shivered on his raft.

Time blurred together. Tony ate one of the packets of food, and somehow managed to sleep. His dreams were messy and confusing, filled with water and cold and a rhythmic rocking. He didn’t remember them when he woke, and that was probably a blessing. It was a clear and beautiful day, with no sign of the chaos and tragedy the night had wrought. There wasn’t any sign of _The Seeker _.__ No debris, or litter, nothing. Just small, gentle waves and clear water. The cold had lifted some with the sunlight, but it was still freezing. It would probably take another day at least for help to arrive, but Tony felt confident his food and water would last that long, even if he wouldn’t be exactly comfortable. The problem would be the cold, and the condition of the raft. His little inflatable boat was not meant to last long on an open ocean, and Tony would have to be vigilant about any tears or damage and see if he could find a way to patch the raft before any damage could sink it.

It also was rapidly becoming clear just how boring being stuck on a raft in the middle of the Arctic Ocean was. There was nothing for miles on any side, with only the waves as anything moving. The sky was clear, without even any clouds to look at. Tony had nothing to tinker with, and Nothing. To. Do. He was a damn genius, his mind was meant to be constantly occupied. Tony felt like the boredom was killing him more tortuously than the cold ever could. He tried to occupy his mind with thoughts of home, but he had never had a talent for day dreaming. Still. He tried to remember times he felt safe, warm, and happy. He thought about his ninth birthday, when his father had been out of town on business and hadn’t called. His mother had left before he had woken up and gone out with friends. So Jarvis had taken Tony out to a baseball game. It was something Tony had never done, and had never thought about doing. But he and Jarvis sat in the bleachers, with hot dogs and popcorn and screamed for their team. Jarvis had bought Tony a baseball cap, and Tony still had it to this day, although it was at home. He had never had a day where he could just go out and be normal, where he wasn’t Tony Stark, son of Howard Stark, boy genius and heir to the family fortune. But that day, he got to eat overpriced, greasy food, and he got ketchup on his shirt but Jarvis had just laughed and told him it was a hazard of the game. It was one of his best memories, and Tony was suddenly fiercely grateful that Jarvis had not gone with the Starks on _The Seeker _.__ He had been completely against Tony going with Howard on the trip, and had told Tony that Captain America was not his responsibility and he should not get involved with his father’s obsession. But Tony had been adamant, hoping that if he was there, he could have the brainstorm that led to finding his father’s old friend, which would lead to Howard finally accepting and feeling pride in Tony. Instead, Howard had completely ignored Tony, and poured over his papers and maps. He had shouted angrily any time Tony had tried to speak with him, and the last time Tony had barely managed to dodge the heavy glass of whiskey Howard had thrown. Tony kept his distance after that. Tony broke out of his thoughts when they started to go to his parents. He didn’t want to think about them right now. Instead he opened his bottle of water, and finished it off.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Hours blurred together. Tony continued to wait.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
A day passed. No ship loomed on the horizon. The uninterrupted span of water did not break. He waited.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Two days passed. Tony’s supplies were nearly gone. He tried to fish, but without anything to bait the hook he didn’t stand a chance at catching something. Tony waited.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
Days passed. All of the food and water was gone. The raft got a hole in the side. Tony used the pocket knife to cut off the heel of his shoe, and used the matches to melt the rubber to make a rough patch for the hole. He waited.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony stopped counting the days. His mouth was dry as a bone, and he got desperate enough to try to drink some salt water, even though he knew it would only make the dehydration worse. He ended up just throwing it up over the side of the raft. Tony waited.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony found he didn’t have the strength to sit up anymore. He layed on his side on the floor of the raft and tried to stay awake. He waited, not for rescue, but for death to end the waiting.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony dreamed that he was a child again, and Jarvis had found him sleeping on the floor of the kitchen where he had been hiding from his father’s drunken rage. He had lifted him, but his arms felt larger and more muscular than Tony remembered. His voice was wrong too, not English, but a strange accent Tony had never heard before. There sounded like more than one person speaking. Had his father found him, or one of the kitchen staff? Tony slipped deeper into unconsciousness where the dreams made sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome! Let me know what you think, and if you think I should continue this. I am not a writer, and have never been tempted until now to write creatively, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head and couldn't find any stories like this. I will write at least a few chapters and see how it goes, then if I am enjoying it and other people seem to as well, I will continue it. Thanks for reading!  
> -Dandy


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a lot more support for the first chapter of this story than I was expecting, so I'm uploading the second chapter right away! It isn't too long, but it felt like the right place to end this chapter. So, just to clarify, in this story Tony and Hiccup are the same person. That means that Tony is not Stoick’s son, and Stoick never had a son to begin with. Because I am combining the two movies, some facts of both will be changed. If something isn’t clear, just let me know and I’ll clarify! Thanks for reading!

Tony drifted. A few times he came close to surfacing from the darkness that kept the cold and thirst at bay. When he did, he thought he felt gentle hands encouraging him to drink cool water, or hot broth. The broth didn’t taste like the soup Jarvis usually fed him when he was sick, but Tony didn’t question it and just drank gratefully. Maybe he was dead, and that was why Jarvis was here. But Jarvis wasn’t dead, so it didn’t make sense that he was here. Of course, Tony had never believed in an afterlife to begin with, so maybe he should just stop questioning who was giving his dead self soup and just enjoy it. Of course, it would be nice if the afterlife had a more comfortable bed. It felt like he was just lying on an uneven table, and there was no mattress. The afterlife did seem to have blankets, judging by how warm Tony was, but the blankets smelled funny, like a barn, and were a strange texture. At least he didn’t have to feel that horrible swaying of the raft anymore.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When Tony really woke for the first time, he was mildly surprised. Well, there went his afterlife theory, since it seemed he was alive. He stared at the ceiling, not comprehending, until a small, bony finger rudely poked him in the arm. He automatically glanced in the direction the finger came from, and nearly jumped out of his skin. There was a short, scrawny old woman standing next to his bed, whose face was pressed close to his.

“Wh-what the fuck? Who are you? Why are you so close to me, do you have no concept of personal space? Where am-” Tony broke into coughing before he could finish his startled rant, his throat dry and unused to speaking. The old woman scowled in irritation, and handed him a cup of water. Immediately, Tony’s whole focus was on the small, wooden cup. He grabbed it and managed to chug an entire two swallows before choking and coughing it back up. The woman slapped him on the back of the head. Tony actually stopped choking to gape at her disbelievingly. A _stranger_ just slapped him? No one had ever dared to do that before. No except his father and Jarvis would dare to even look at the heir to the Stark fortune with any kind of negativity. She pointed at the cup, again, and helped guide it to his mouth. This time Tony was more careful drinking, and managed to drain the cup while breathing evenly through his nose. The women nodded, and hobbled out of the room with the cup. She hadn’t said a word since Tony had woken up, and it was getting unnerving.

Tony took the quiet moment to try to get a sense on where he was. He was lying on what seemed to be a bed, judging by the headboard and shape. But it was made of rough wood panels, and didn’t have a mattress. He had a pillow, but it was stuffed with something prickly. His blanket, much to his shock, seemed to be some kind of animal fur. The fur itself was fairly long and shaggy, and while the blanket was warm, it still smelled like whatever animal is had once been. The room was relatively large, with a fire burning in the middle. There were more beds like the one he laid on surrounding the fire, although they were all unoccupied. There were also plants in wooden boxes filled with soil by the windows. The windows in question were not windows at all, but holes in the wall that had a wood cover than could be swung over and latched over the holes. Tony took a deep breath. He obviously wasn’t in America, or any other first world country. Maybe these were people were temporarily on a small island, hunters or fishers, who were just here until they got back on the water. Maybe they could take Tony home. Maybe-

Tony was interrupted from his thoughts when the door suddenly slammed open. The man who lumbered in had Tony’s thoughts freezing. He was fairly tall, but his massive build had him seeming even taller. He was also missing two limbs, and rather than have a typical prosthetic, he had some kind of hook in place of his left hand, and a wooden peg for a right foot. He didn’t have a beard, but a long braided mustache. But what really had Tony freezing in shock and horror was what was on his head. It was a metal helmet, with two long antlers on either side and a row of metal spikes going down the middle. A Viking helmet.

People stayed away from Viking territories. Their lands were extremely north, and there wasn’t much there in terms of resources. But they were fiercely defensive of their land, and the advanced southern nations have never interfered with them since the Vikings didn’t have anything of interest and they protected their little hunks of rock and ice with everything they had. _The Seeker_ hadn’t been close enough to any Viking territories to have run into them. His little raft must have been drifting further north as Tony floated, and he had been found or had washed up on shore.

The Viking either didn’t notice Tony’s silent panic, or didn’t care.

“Morning lad! Or afternoon, I suppose. You’ve slept damn near three days! That the kind of thing you Southern's do? Seems likely to me, ya have all those fancy machines that do all your hard work for ya. I guess you’ll be needing some water, hm? You were near dead when Mulch and Bucket found ya in yer little air filled boat! Lucky for you Bucket was curious so they stopped for a closer look, and whatya know, there ya were, still breathing! Gothi, she’s the Healer who was just here, she said you woulda been dead in a few more hours, and Gothi is never wrong about these things so-”

Good Lord this man might talk even more than Tony. “Who are you, and where am I?” He asked in a flat voice.

The Viking blinked at Tony. “I’m Gobber the Belch, the blacksmith, and I help Gothi when she needs it, although the old bat would never directly ask. Don’t tell her I said that, or she’ll put yak hairs in my skivvies again. This is Berk. We’re a small, but mighty Viking village. Our chief wants to talk to ya when Gothi clears -”

“I am Tony Stark. I am the son of a very rich man who I believe died when my ship went down. That means I am about inherit a very large amount of money. If you help me get home, you will be heavily rewarded.” Tony was in no mood to listen to this Viking ramble.

The Viking, Gobber apparently, just smiled at Tony - He even had a metal tooth for fucks sake - and said “Ya’ll have to talk to Stoick about that. He wanted to speak with ya. Now if you’re done interrupting me, Gothi can finish checking ya over while I go let the Chief know you’re awake, hmm?”

“You do that,” Tony answered coldly. Maybe it wasn’t wise to antagonize a violent group of barbarians who still practice medicine with goddamn herbs, but Tony was scared. And Howard always told Tony to never let his enemies know he is afraid, or he is just handing them a weapon to destroy him with.

Gobber nodded cheerfully - Good God did anything break this man’s good mood? - and as if on cue, the old woman, Gothi, walked in with a steaming cup of something that smelled delicious.  
Gobber started to walk out, but paused at the door and added, “Oh, by the way lad, Gothi doesn’t speak so just do whatever she indicates. Best of luck boy!”

Well, that explains why the woman had been so creepily silent. Gothi carried the steaming cup over to Tony, handed it to him, then held her hand out, palm forward, in a universal “take it easy” gesture. Tony took the cup with a muttered, reluctant, “Thanks.”  
Gothi nodded, patted him in the knee, and creakily stood up to walk over to her plants. Tony took a cautious sip, then a deeper drink when the meaty, delicious flavor met his tongue. Under normal circumstances, he probably would have been uninterested in the simple broth, but in that moment Tony didn’t think he’d ever tasted anything better. Okay, Tony thought. He was stranded on an island of Vikings. So far they don’t seem to think he is a threat, and have been helpful. Once he talks to this Chief, he can offer up more money than this little frozen rock of an island is even worth and they will take him home. His objective was to get home. There seemed to be three steps in achieving that goal. Step one, survive the The Seeker going down. Check. Step two, survive on the raft. Check. Step three, survive the Vikings. That one seemed to be about to go into play, as there was a sudden, heavy knock at the door. Gothi, glanced up, and hobbled over to it. Tony took a deep breath. Time to meet the Chief of Berk, and hopefully the start the last step in getting home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Tony is on Berk. How do you guys think he will manage? Thanks for all the support so far, and please leave a comment letting me know what you think, be it good or bad!


	3. Chapter 3

Gothi opened the door, and cold air blasted into the room, causing the fire to flicker a couple times before settling again. Tony couldn’t see the man outside the door, but heard a deep voice with the same accent that Gobber had had.

“Gobber said the Southern boy is awake? Is he in good enough condition to speak with me?”

Gothi nodded, and gestured for the owner of the voice to come in. The man who entered made Tony instinctively tense. He was a mountain of a man, one who made Gobber look damn near puny. He had to be nearly seven feet tall, and bulky with muscle. He had bright red hair tied back behind his head, and a long knotted beard of the same color. He took off his Viking helmet as he entered, nodding respectfully to Gothi, and only then did he turn his gaze on Tony. Tony worked on keeping his face straight, on not showing the fear that was crawling through him at being confronted by this massive man. _He would not be afraid of these savages _.__

“I am Stoick the Vast, chief of Berk. I have some questions for you. Firstly, who are you?”

At least the man is to the point. “I am Tony Stark. My father is Howard Stark. I doubt people of your … _culture_ … know of him, but he is - was - a very important man, and a very rich one. You will be heavily rewarded for rescuing me and returning me home.”

The Viking chief nodded, looking unsurprised. Gobber must have told him, and the Chief had only asked to test Tony’s honesty.

“We will get to that in a moment. But first, why were you, a Southerner, so close to Viking islands? Where are the people you must have been traveling with, and why are they here?”

Tony hesitated, considering lying, but really the truth was probably more likely to get him what he wanted than a lie at this point. And there was no telling exactly how much Stoick already knew. “My father is - was - looking for something he lost a long time ago. Our ship wasn’t supposed to be this close to Viking territory, and I think my raft must have been drifting here. The ocean currents would be pulling it to the closest land, so it makes sense. Something went wrong with the ship, I don’t know what, and it sank. I managed to escape it before it went down, and found the inflatable raft and emergency kit. I was the only person I know of that made it off,” Tony said in a low, cautious voice. So far, these Vikings had been more accommodating than Tony would have expected of creatures like these, but he had to remember they were superstitious and violent. Tony would have to be careful with how he worded things. The last thing Tony needed was to accidentally say something that would make them think he was cursed by their Gods or something, and make them decide to burn him at the stake or some other ridiculous way to ‘cleanse his soul’.

The Chief nodded thoughtfully, and said “How close was your ship to our waters when it went down, or at any other point?”

Tony frowned, and said “I’m not sure. My dad didn’t let me look over the maps, and only said we would be going north. I never saw any islands or anything though. We weren’t here for anything related to you people, we were just looking for something. The government wasn’t involved, so you can relax, America isn’t looking to take your lands.”

The Chief still didn’t look convinced, but only said, “What is it your father and his people were looking for?”

Again Tony hesitated, but it wasn’t like Vikings would know who Captain America was, or why his body is so valuable. “He had a friend, a long time ago, whose plane crashed into the ocean. My dad was looking for his body.”

This seemed to satisfy the man, who gave a sage nod and said “Ah, yes, I suppose even you Southerners would want to give a comrade a proper send off to the Gods. In that case, I am sorry he died before he could honor his friend.”

Surprised by the sincerity in the man’s voice, Tony cautiously said, “Yeah, well, I guess it doesn’t matter now. So, how long until we leave?”

Stoick blinked. “Leave?”

God, these people really were just as dumb as the television documentaries said. Speaking deliberately slowly, Tony said, “To take me home? And give you your reward?”

Stoick sighed, and a bad feeling began to creep into Tony’s gut. “Boy, the freeze is almost on us, and there is no way I am sending a ship on a long voyage only for it to get stuck in the ice while my men starve. Even without the freeze, Southerners don’t exactly like Vikings, and are more likely to sink our ship than let us talk. Vikings and Southerners have had an understanding for a long time: We stay away from them, they stay away from us. It’s how it has always been, and how it always will be.”

Tony’s breath had frozen in his lungs when Stoick had began to speak, but the last sentence freed his chest and he sucked in a sharp breath. “So, what, you saved me never intending to return me home? Are you kidding? What are you planning to do with me then, kill me, send me back out on that goddamn raft, sacrifice me to your stupid Gods, or -”

“ _That’s enough!_ ” The Chief interrupted sharply.

Tony inhaled, and abruptly realized what he has done. He just antagonized the man who will determine if Tony lives or dies, and if Tony will get to return home. He really had to pull it together. Tony was a genius, and these people were stupid savages who believed their fates were determined by a handful of Gods. Tony would have to keep his head, and use his intelligence to talk his way out of this.

While Tony was thinking, Stoick was speaking. “I know you Southerners don’t think highly of us, but we are not heartless. We will feed you and help you find a way to pull your weight in the village. If you can contact your people, and they want to come get you, we will allow them to do so as long as they are not a threat to my people.”

Okay. Okay. Tony could work with that. “Alright, well, I could try to find a way to call for help. See, I’m pretty smart, and I can make things. Maybe I could build a radio or something.You are so - _isolated_  - from the rest of the world, that I won’t be able to connect to any base stations. But maybe I can use the satellites to -”

“You will not use your Southern tools here. While you are a guest on Berk, you will respect our beliefs and rules,” Stoick interrupted.

Tony stared at him in disbelief. “Are you kidding? So, you won’t take me home, but you’ll let me contact Americans for help, but I can’t use any tools to do so? What do you suggest then? Just chant at the sky and let your Gods tell them?”

Stoick’s face darkened at the taunt, but he only said “You can send letters out with the traders who come through. At one point or another it is likely that one of the letters will end up with the Southerners. I am being very reasonable, boy, don’t make me regret showing you kindness.”

“So, what, I’m stuck here for months, until a letter _maybe_ ends up in the right hands? I’m just supposed to sit here because of your superstitions? You don’t have to have anything to do with the technology, you don’t even have to see it, I just need to -” Tony was interrupted from his slightly panicked argument when Stoick brought his fist down on the table next to him.

“You will respect our ways, and our beliefs! Southerners are soft people, made that way by the machines that do all your hard word for you. But here, we do things the Viking way. That means hard work and strength, not laziness! We rescued you from your little boat, and nursed you back to health. You will not thank us for our mercy by spitting on our way of life and looking down your narrow Southern nose at us!”

Tony’s teeth clicked together at the man’s shout, and he finally fell silent. There was no reason for these people to know if he was making something to contact the U.S. He would just have to find a way to get access to their supplies, and do it in private.

Stoick took a deep breath, pulling Tony from his thoughts. “I understand you are afraid, and that where you are from that is an excuse for many things. But we are Vikings, and if you are going to be staying here for any length of time, you need to fit in with us. That means you need to _walk_ like us, _talk_ like us, _think_ like us. No more of all, _this_.” Stoick waved vaguely in Tony’s direction.

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “You just gestured to all of me,” He said in a flat voice.

Stoick ignored him and turned towards the door. Over his shoulder he said, “Gothi will see to you until you have fully recovered. I will speak with the village and explain your predicament, and decide where you will be staying.”

“Wow, sure glad I get to make some decisions in my own life. You Vikings sure know how to make a guy feel at home,” Tony said sarcastically. Either the Chief didn’t hear him, or he pretended not to as he stomped out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am planning on making longer chapters, promise! I have midterms this week, so I wanted to post what I managed to write between panicked studying. As always, please let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!  
> \- Dandy


	4. Chapter 4

Stoick closed the door behind him a little harder than strictly necessary, but damned if the Southern boy didn’t irritate him. Gobber was waiting outside, of course.

“So, how’d it go?” Gobber asked, too casual.

“Oh, quiet Gobber, I know you had yer ear pressed to the door the whole time.”

“But I couldn’t hear nothin’! Just mutterin' and then you shoutin' there at the end.”

Stoick gave a heavy sigh. “He wants to go home of course. I don’t blame him there, the lad has been through a lot and he’s in a strange place surrounded by strange people. And Southerners aren’t used to hardship, so he probably has never had something go wrong in his life before. But I can’t drop everything and risk the lives of my own people to take him South.”

Gobber nodded, and said, “Aye, I understand that. But what were you shoutin' about there at the end, about how he needs to respect our ways? What did he want?”

Stoick scowled at the reminder of the boy’s words, and answered “He wanted to make Southern tools to contact the Southerners. As if I would allow that. Truly, what was he thinkin'? Does he expect me to allow somethin' like that in _my_ village? Next thing ya know, Spitelout will be wantin' self-heatin' bath water, Silent Sven will want his water delivered to his pastures, and Mildew will want a machine to plow his cabbage fields for him!”

Gobber raised his eyebrows and said, “He wanted to make us use the Southern machines?”

Stoick shook his head. “No, he wanted to use it to contact his people. But just havin' it here would be insulting to the Gods. It’s bad enough to have the lad himself here, let alone his machines. Just havin' them could sway my people, cause them to try them and become as soft as the Southerners. How are we supposed to fight off the dragons if all of our warriors are too soft-bellied to fight?”

Gobber frowned and said, “I don’t think that would happen. Seems to me the lad just wants to get home. He did just lose his family after all. And he’s young, not even old enough for Dragon Trainin'. So what if he makes his machine? He could just take it with him when he leaves. I’ve never heard any Vikin' ever wishin' to use Southern machines, and I doubt any of us would even know how to work it.”

Again, Stoick shook his head. “No Gobber. We are Vikings, and we will do things our way. The boy must learn to do the same. He can send letters with the traders. Trader Johann at least is likely to run into someone who could get it to the Southerners. Allowing that much is being more than generous with the lad.”

Gobber replied, “I supposed yer right. But what are ya going to do with him for now?”

Stoick groaned. “Thor help me, I have no idea. Do you think maybe Spitelout would take him in? Or maybe the Ingermans?”

Gobber tisks disapprovingly. “Now Stoick, ya know ya can’t just hand him off to someone else. You are the Chief, and he’s here because of _yer_ village’s traditions. That makes him _yer_ responsibility.”

“What would you have me do, send our men on a suicide mission South?” Stoick demanded.

“No, of course not. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s here because of you. And, he’s the son of an important man, if he’s telling the truth. And I don’t think he was lyin’. We don’t wanna start a war with the Southerners because we offended someone important.”

Stoick waved a hand and said, “I’m not worried about that. As long as he’s alive they will be in our debt. We do not need to treat him like a prince just because we happened to stumble up on his little boat. We owe him nothing.” 

Gobber said, “Either way, Stoick. Ya can’t ask someone else to take him in when yer the one who is keepin' him here.”

“Why don’t you take him then, since you clearly like him so much,” came Stoick’s grumpy reply.

“I don’t have the spare room, or I just might. I actually like the little brat; he’s feisty. He makes up for his size with his mouth.”

“That’s another thing. The lad’s so small I don’t know how in the world he could be of use. I don’t even feel comfortable putting him on fire brigade with the other teens.”

Gobber shrugged. “We’ll find somethin’. First we need to get him settled and strengthened up - as much he can be - and then we’ll figure out what to do with him. We can always have him sheer Sven’s sheep or somethin’.”

Stoick sighed. “Sven doesn’t need any help. And a young, healthy boy wasted like that? It would be downright shameful. Hopefully either his people will take him soon, or he will muscle up and learn how to fight. We need more warriors if we are going to win this war, not farmers.”

Gobber shrugged. “He might not even be willing to fight. I hear that the Southerns submit to the dragons’ will, refuse to fight ‘em.”

Stoick’s scowl came back with a vengeance. “He will not do so here, or he will not eat. If he helps the dragons, then he will be floated out to sea, to die the way the Gods almost took him before. If he can fight, and simply refuses, then he will not be fed. We will not allow for cowardliness on Berk.”

Gobber nodded. “Aye, I agree with ya there. If it’s allowed once, even for a Southerner, than the others will lose faith in ya, and in our success in this war with the beasties.”

Stoick sighed. “Can you ask Hoark to have a bed made for the boy, and Phlegma to clean out the loft space in my house? I’ll speak to the villagers about him, and arrange for proper clothes to be made for him.”

Gobber nodded. “Aye, and I’ll stop by Gothi’s to speak to the lad and tell him the news.. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled, considering how well ya two got on before!”

“He started it! I have a duty to my people first, which he should understand!”

Gobber chuckled and said, “Sure, but who knows how these Southerners think. I’ll bring ‘im a plate of dinner too, start getting some meat on his bones.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

At least a few hours had gone by since Stoick had stormed out, and Tony had passed the time napping and drinking water. There was no way to be sure of the time, since Vikings apparently don’t even have clocks, but the sun looked like it was going down, and the bright sunlight outside had dimmed to a soft glow. Now Tony was wide awake, and bored out of his mind. He watched Gothi move around the room tending to her plants. She wasn’t so creepy now that he was used to her, and the silence was actually kind of nice. Normally, Tony hated the quiet, and filled it with meaningless chatter and sarcastic remarks. This often got him a backhand from his father, or just removed from the room and ignored for another couple of weeks.

“So, what do you Vikings do for entertainment? I mean, you don’t have T.V., or Internet, which is downright sad, I haven’t even thought about that, how am I going to survive? Not even radio, so no music, my god, what do you -"

Tony was interrupted from his rambling when a heavy, leather-bound book was dropped in his lap. He hadn’t even notice Gothi move from her plants. The woman was shockingly silent.

“Well, it’s not the Internet, but I suppose it’ll work for now.” But when Tony cracked the book open, he groaned. “Are you kidding me? You guys speak English, but your written language is different? What even are these symbols, I’ve never seen anything like it, they’re like old runes, what am I supposed to do with this?”

Gothi just used her old staff -  and that’s another thing, what the hell even is her staff, it looks like it’s made of bones - to point at the book, then at Tony.

“Ugh, I guess if I am going to be stuck here I should learn how to read this language. At least it’s something to do. Got any paper and a pen?”

Gothi grabbed a small, leather-bound book form a shelf, and tossed it onto Tony’s bed. But rather than digging out a pencil like he expected, or even a feather and pot of ink - hey, how would he know, not like these people use efficient tools - she just took a small stick form a basket next to the shelf and held in the flame of the candle until the end was burned black. Then she handed it to him.

“Are you kidding, you guys don’t even have graphite, or ink, so you use charcoal? That’s so old, I haven’t even heard of that, besides using charcoal pencils for art of course, which is completely different, and obviously -”

Tony was once again interrupted when Gothi smacked him upside the head. This is happened a number of times over the past hours and no longer surprised Tony. He was just glad she used her hand instead of that bone staff she had eyed a couple of times when Tony rambled for too long. Tony took the hint and shut up. Oddly enough, it didn’t feel like when his father would hit him. With Gothi, it didn’t hurt, and almost felt affectionate.

Tony took the small book, which after opening he saw was actually a blank journal, and the burned stick. Then he opened the huge book Gothi had given him, and got to work. He looked for patterns in the odd symbols, and recorded them. He had written down several patterns he had seen when the door suddenly slammed open again.

Gobber lumbered in, his peg leg thumping on the stone ground and a plate in his flesh hand. He also wore a grin wide enough to show off his metal tooth, which seemed to be his default expression. “Evenin’ laddie! I brought ya some dinner, real food rather than the flavored water Gothi’s been givin’ ya!”  

Tony was definitely okay with that. He closed the book and set his work aside. “Gimme.”

Gobber handed Tony a plate of roasted chicken and a smoked fish of some kind. “Gothi got ya reading her old herbalist books? That stuff’ll put ya right to sleep. What are you writing? Does she have ya recording stuff too? Don’t let her get ya into that nonsense, or she’ll never let ya stop.”

Gothi smacked Gobber upside the head like she’d been doing to Tony, only with Gobber she did use that bone staff. Tony winced in sympathy, then eagerly tore into the chicken leg on his plate. It had no seasoning except salt, but in that moment Tony felt like he’d never tasted anything better.

“Your written language is different from mine, even though we speak the same. If I am going to be stuck here for even a little while, I need to be able to read.”

“Good luck laddie, even most born-and-raised Vikings can’t read the runes. Just Gothi, Stoick, me, and a couple of the teens.”

Tony glanced up from his plate. “Give me a month, and I’ll have it down. I’m pretty smart, so it’s not really fair to compare me to Vikings -”

“Hey!”

“ - And I’m assuming you came here for something other than to feed me. And since you're here, and not the Chief, I’m assuming I won’t like it.”

Gobber grinned and said, “Just letting ya know where you’ll be staying when Gothi let’s you out! The Chief has agreed to take ya in, so once you’ve recovered and Stoick gets everything set up for ya, you’ll go to his -" 

“Are you kidding me?! I have to stay with _him?_ He’s the one who won’t let me go home, and he was an absolute ass before! Why would he even want to to stay with him, he didn’t like me anymore than I liked him, and -”

“He’s the reason why yer alive, and is allowing the Southerners to come and get you, which is something Vikings have never allowed before. He is protecting his people, as is his duty as Chief, and he is the one who made sure you were given the best Healer in the village to care for you, the village Elder herself. You would have died on the ocean if Bucket and Mulch hadn’t brought you here, and would have simply died here if Stoick wasn’t kind enough to see to it that ya got what ya needed to recover. He has already done a lot of ya, and you should be grateful boy." 

Looks like Tony found something that could annoy the man at least. “Yeah, maybe that’s true. But if he’s already done so much for me, and clearly doesn’t like me, why would he voluntarily spend more time with me?”

Gobber sighed. “He’s the Chief, and yer a guest. Yer only here because his people pulled ya off yer raft and brought ya here, even if it was to save yer life. And he is the one keeping ya here, although it is what’s best for his people. So yer his responsibility. Vikings aren’t ones to shirk responsibility, so he’ll house ya until yer people come and get ya.”

Tony didn’t speak for a moment. He would prefer to just stay here with Gothi, but he could tell this place was a hospital of some kind, and once he was fully recovered he obviously wouldn’t be able to stay there anymore. And he couldn’t ask Gobber for a favor like that, not when he barely knew the man. And Gothi, Gobber, and Stoick were the only three people he’s met so far. He didn’t have any other options it seemed, and he would just have to be grateful he was getting a roof over his head at all. So he have a reluctant nod, and said “Yeah, alright whatever. It’ll just be until I get home anyway. Speaking of, when are there supposed to be traders who will come through?”

“Trader Johann is expected to come in the next month, but he will be the last one until the freeze is over. But he’s the best, so if anyone can get a letter south for ya, it’ll be him.”

Tony sighed, shoulders slumping. One trader, for the whole year. Tony wasn’t stupid, he knew how unlikely it was that a letter would get to America from here no matter how many traders come through. That meant his only chance at getting home would be to make some kind of radio, which the Chief had made very clear he wasn’t allowed to do. So he would have to work in secret, which meant that he had to have a quiet, private place to work, and the tools and materials to do so. He wasn’t even sure if they’d have it. Getting home was looking worse and worse as he found out more.

Gobber patted Tony, a gesture that was probably supposed to be comforting, but all it accomplished was nearly making Tony drop his plate from the force of the huge hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry lad. I know Southerners have probably filled yer head with nonsense about us, but you could be in worse places. Ya might even grow to like it here.”

Apparently Gobber also knew how unlikely it was that Tony would be able to get a letter south. “I doubt it. I’m not like you people. I like technology, and education. I’m supposed to go to college this year, and with my father gone, I am supposed to be preparing to take over his company once I’m old enough. I’m not meant to be in a place that doesn’t even have running water.”

“We don’t believe in yer machines, true, but we have other things. You’ll see lad, and I’m sure you’ll grow to love Berk as much as the rest of us. You’ll meet the other teens soon enough, and we’ll find ya a job to keep ya occupied. For now, eat yer dinner, yer thin as a newborn yak and we need ya beefy!”

Tony scowled. He hated the remainder of his small size. His father had never let him forget it. _No one will ever look up to you if they are constantly looking down at you, boy._ “Shut up. I’m eating, and I’ve been stranded at sea if you didn’t notice. Excuse me for losing some weight.”

“No one loses that much weight unless they were thin to begin with. We’ll fatten ya up, don’t ya worry lad. You’ll be looking the part of a Viking in no time!”

Yeah, no thanks. Tony would like to be a bit taller and more muscular, sure, but he could live without the ragged appearance and body odor. “Yeah, whatever Gobber. Now, if you’re done telling me how cool Vikings are, I’d like to get back to my book.”

Gobber chuckled. “Sure lad. Eat everything on that plate, I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said we need to fatten ya up!” With that last bit of advice, Gobber limped out the door, letting it swing shut behind him.

Tony set the plate aside, and buried his head in his hands with a moan. This was just getting worse and worse. If he had to live in the same house as the Chief, it would be nearly impossible to hide his work on the radio. He would have to find somewhere else to work. It wasn’t likely that they’d be constantly watching him, at least they wouldn’t after the excitement of his being there wore off. Maybe if he -

  
He nearly jumped out of his skin when a small, wrinkled hand touched his shoulder. He looked up to see Gothi standing in front of his bed. He's forgotten she was even in the room. She was so short that even when Tony was sitting, they were nearly face to face. She picked up his plate and laid it on his lap. He glanced at the plate, back to Gothi, then resumed eating his first Viking meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please let me know what you think, be it good or bad!  
> \- Dandy


	5. Chapter 5

Tony was moving into the Chief’s house the day after Gobber had brought him dinner. He spent that night pouring over the book Gothi had given him, and had filled several pages of his journal with patterns he found in the runes. It was peaceful in Gothi’s little house, and Tony for once did not attempt to fill the silence. He wished he could stay there with her. She reminded him of Jarvis, with her gentle hands and firm, no nonsense attitude. He missed Jarvis so much his whole chest ached. He should have never gone on _The Seeker,_ and should have just stayed home like Jarvis had wanted him to. He tried to focus harder on his book, and keep Jarvis out of his mind. He would just have to get his radio built, then he could go home and Jarvis would make him soup, real soup, not the broth he got here, and Tony would tell him all about the Vikings, and Gothi, and Gobber’s metal tooth. He just had to build his radio.

Tony worked on the book until his eyes were drooping, then Gothi took it away and made him lie down. But when he fell asleep, his dreams were filled of icy water and fire, and his own unanswered screams. Everytime he jerked out of a dream, gasping of air, Gothi would always be there with a mug of hot milk that tasted thicker and gamier than any kind of milk he’d had before. But he drank it without complaint because he was keeping Gothi awake, and although he wouldn’t apologize - _Don’t you apologize boy. If you say you’re sorry you’re saying you’re wrong, and you can never show weakness like that_ \- he wouldn’t reject the gesture she was getting out of bed to make.

When the sun finally came up Tony couldn’t be more grateful. For the first time since escaping _The Seeker_ , Tony got to get up and walk around. He was surprised by how steady he was, but Gothi had proved that she knew what she was doing. It was good to be up, but he didn’t want to leave Gothi’s little hut. It had become a sanctuary of kind. While he was there, everything was quiet and calm. But he was already going stir crazy, and he knew he needed to find materials and a place to start working on his radio. And before he could do that he had to move into Stoick’s house and figure out the Viking village. 

He had just finished eating breakfast - these people eat roasted chicken for _breakfast,_  what the hell -  when the door slammed open and the Chief stomped in. He didn’t look any happier about the living arrangements than Tony, which cheered him marginally. At least he wouldn’t be the only one miserable.

So he gave the man a toothy grin and said “What’s up roomie. I hear we’re gonna be bunking together. As long as you don’t have sex in my bed and don’t touch my stuff I’m sure we’ll get along _fabulously._ ”

Stoick gave him a look that managed to be both annoyed and confused at the same time and said, “What?”   

Tony waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Never mind. So, time to get this show on the road? Not like I’ve got a lot of things to move, you know, ship wrecked and all.” 

Stoick nodded and held out what looked like a bundle of cloth and leather. “Yes, so Yalma made you some clothes. What you have now is practically rotting off, and it wouldn’t exactly help you fit in.”

Tony glanced down at his clothes. Sure, he supposed they weren’t in exactly great condition. He was still in his pajamas from that night on _The Seeker_ , and they hadn’t handled his time on the raft well. They were full of holes, and stiff as cardboard. So he nodded and said, “Cool, thanks. I’m never one to turn down new clothes." 

Stoick nodded and said “Let me know if something doesn’t fit. Or you can ask around for Yalma, since she’s the one who made them.”

Tony took the bundle and said “Sweet, custom made clothes. Not really up to the par I’m used to, but I guess I’ll live."

Stoick gave him an unimpressed look and said, “Get dressed. I’ll wait outside, and take you to my home. You’ll be staying in my loft.”

Without giving Tony a chance to respond, the Chief turned on his heel and stomped out. The guy really had a bad attitude. He should start doing yoga. Or smoke a giant bag of weed. Tony wasn’t picky. He shook out the clothes he’s been given, and groaned. They were definitely Viking clothes. The shirt was long sleeved, and well, long. It looked like it would fall to almost his knees. It was green, with what looked like some kind of leather strap or belt that went around the waist, and leather ties by the neck and wrists. The pants were a simple dark brown. The boots, he was surprised to find - although he really shouldn’t be by this point -  were made of leather and animal fur. There were also some simple cloth underwear, and he really didn’t want to picture the Viking woman sewing him underwear. He dressed quickly. Everything was a bit too big, but damned if he’d admit that to these huge Vikings. When he looked up from fumbling with his shirt ties, Gothi was standing there. He had stopped being startled by her silent appearances. She held out his journal and the book he’d been studying.

 

Startled, he said “What? That’s yours.” But she just pushed the books harder at him. Touched, he took them from her. He muttered, “Thanks,” in discomfort but genuine appreciation. He literally had nothing to call his own, and was ridiculously grateful for the books. Gothi gave him a gentle pat on the cheek, promptly followed by a rude shove towards the door. 

There was no point in procrastinating. Tony walked to the door, then hesitated. He hadn’t seen anything of this Viking village except the little hospital, if you could call it that. But he wouldn’t be able to take the next step towards getting home until he went outside. So he sucked in a deep breath, and pulled the door open. Immediately, cold air blasted him in the face, momentarily blinding him. But when he managed to get his eyes open and take a look at the village, he was struck uncharacteristically dumb. 

It was gorgeous. Blue, clear water stretched out all around, broken by only by sea stacks that rose into the sky from below the water’s surface. And the village itself. It seemed to be mostly vertical, built into a series of cliffs. Stairs were built in a large, circular fashion down to docks crowded with ships. Gothi’s hut seemed to be near the top of the cliffs, allowing him a nearly uninterrupted view. He could see lots more small houses all around, and people bustling around between them. He was shocked by how the village was just built _into_ the land. In New York, the land was hammered down and covered with cement. But here, there was grass, although it was starting to brown, and trees with beautiful red and yellow leaves. The houses and stairs were built using the natural slope of the ground, and the village seemed to be apart of the island. Like it was meant to be there.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Tony jumped slightly at the quiet voice. He’d forgotten about Stoick. But he didn’t say anything, just nodded silently. There was no denying it. 

Stoick apparently took that as a cue to continue. “I’ve spent my whole life on Berk. Swam her waters, climbed her cliffs, explored her forests. Now, I watch over her, and my people. Seeing them all safe, and happy...it’s a good feeling.”

Tony had never had a place like that. He grew up in New York, but it never felt like home. And he spent a lot of time away at boarding school, where the only one who answered his letters was Jarvis. He spent more time trying to get his family to remember he existed than watching over them. Tony swallowed the lump that had unexpectedly appeared in his throat and glanced away.  Crying in front of a Viking chief was _not_ an option. 

So Tony did what Tony does in these situations, and opened his mouth. “Well, oh powerful Viking leader, lead me to your humble establishments, where I can rest my weary head. Why, I feel absolutely faint. I must say -” 

“My home is this way.” Stoick’s had apparently decided the best way to handle Tony Stark was to never let him finish what he’s saying. Not a bad strategy really. The Viking chief lead Tony down some of the stairs he had been admiring, and into what was immediately clear as the heart of the village. There were shops as well as houses, and Tony noted Gobber pounding away at something in a small building with smoke coming from a hole in the ceiling that was probably supposed to serve as a chimney. The man gave Tony a cheery way as they walked past. Right. Gobber is a blacksmith. Definitely useful information. If there’s anywhere on a Viking’s village that would have the materials Tony would need for his radio, it would be at the forge. Tony filed this information away for later, and turned his gaze onto the Vikings around him. They were all staring, and whispering. Without a doubt, none of them had seen a Southerner before. The continents had decided decades ago to leave the Viking be, and there had been almost no contact since then. At least this, Tony knew how to handle. He put on his best camera smirk, and drew his shoulders back. He moved with confidence and authority, but it was immediately clear that the Vikings were moving aside not for him, but for the Chief walking in front of him. Their whispers followed them.

“Is that ‘im? Really?”

“Look at his hair. Definitely a Southerner, no Viking would bother to make their hair that shiny.” 

“He’s so small. I guess it’s true, the Southerner’s are soft.” 

Tony ground his teeth, but didn’t say anything back to the whisperers. He was pleased to be as well groomed as he was, all things considered, but the way these Vikings talked about his hair made him feel like it was a bad thing. Abnormal, weird. A freak. And his size. Why did the Vikings have to always talk about Tony’s size. Sure, he wasn’t some Viking behemoth, but he was young still and hadn’t finished growing. And size didn’t matter, what these Vikings should be thinking about was Tony’s mind, and what he could do for this little village. He could already see things that desperately needed improving. There was an old-fashioned well near the forge, with a goddamn _rope and bucket_. That could use some plumbing, or at least an automated system to save someone having to lift a heavy bucket of water from the well. And down by the docks, he could see an old, dusky crane that seemed to use a fixed pulley system. If they even just used a compound pulley, they could lift much heavier loads with much less effort. Tony knew better than to mention his observations. Maybe he could slowly adjust them to his ideas, but now was not the time. 

Tony nearly walked into Stoick when the man suddenly stopped walking. Jesus, Tony only came up to the middle of his back. The man really was a giant. He glanced around the Chief, and saw that they’d stopped in front of a house, slightly larger than most of the houses he’d seen so far, but still smaller than even the average New Yorker’s house. But it must be the Chief’s. 

“This your digs? Gotta say, not very impressive. I expected the Chief of this ‘mighty Viking village’ to have something a little more....more.” 

Stoick gave Tony a flat look, and said “We’re constantly rebuildin’. It doesn’t make sense to build a large house only for it to need to be rebuilt in six months. And we have no need for large, ornate houses. We’re Vikings.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, got that. You know, you wouldn’t need to be constantly rebuilding if you dried the logs properly before building with them. Then they wouldn’t rot. And you probably don’t have to deal with termites much, because of the cold, but if you added some orange oil to your house’s foundation they wouldn’t touch your house even in the summer.” 

Stoick shook his head. “It’s not rot or bugs that destroy our homes. It’s the dragons. But we give back as good as we get. And once we find the nest and wipe the beasts out, then we can build lasting homes. Your room is upstairs, in the loft. I trust you’ll find it. I have to go help plan Mulch’s and Bucket’s next fishing expedition, since you cut theirs short.” Either unaware or uncaring of the bombshell he just dropped on Tony, Stoick turned and walked back towards the main part of the village. 

Tony didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His mind had frozen at Stoick’s words. _Dragons?_ They’re fighting _dragons_? Tony knew the Vikings were uneducated of course, but were they completely lacking all common sense? Did they not even stop to think? Dragons fight when people fight them, but do not search for conflict. America had started capturing dragons in the early 1900’s for study, and immediately the dragons went on the attack. They were smart, leading charges of hundreds at a time to the research facilities and leaving no one alive, or just a couple of stealthy dragons would slip in and free the captured ones. They always helped each other, and were merciless in their attacks. Because of this, it wasn’t until 1973 that it became illegal to capture or kill a dragon except in self defense. But once people stopped trying to capture the dragons, the attacks stopped, just like that. The dragons were shy, and stayed away from people. They could often be seen flying overhead, but never came near humans. Some old-timers still believed the dragons were evil, and would occasionally petition to make hunting them legal, but for the most part Americans had agreed to leave them be.    

But the Vikings were hunting them? Hadn’t they realized? If they just left the dragons be, they would leave the Vikings be too, same as on America. These dragons can’t be that different. Dragons were dangerous, and although they seemed fairly smart, they are still wild animals. But as long as both sides avoid each other, there was no reason for either one to hurt the other. Tony sucked in a breath, looking around. For the first time, he noticed the dragon heads carved onto the houses. All the carvings showed the dragons’ faces twisted in either mindless rage, or gut-wrenching agony. There were medieval weapons like axes, swords, and battle hammers leaning against walls, or laid out with a sharpening stone. Ready to be used. These people were not just defending their homes, they were actively trying to kill the dragons. 

But it’s fine, Tony told himself. He would just tell Stoick what America did, and they would stop attacking the dragons. Then the dragons would stop attacking the Vikings, and the Viking would be so grateful that they’d let him make his radio, and he wouldn’t have to hide it, and he could be home before the end of the month and see Jarvis and start college and get ready to take over Stark Industries. It would be fine, this was better even. There was an easy solution to this problem, and it didn’t require any technology or tools the Vikings would object to. Tony took a deep breath. It was fine. He could handle it. Now that that momentary panic has dissipated, Tony grabbed the door to the Chief’s house and yanked it open. 

It wasn’t as large as Gothi’s had been, but since her’s had been a hospital of sorts, it made sense. The door opened to what seemed to be the main living space. There was a fire burning in a fireplace on one side, and a table perpendicular to it. There were several large chairs around the room, and a several weapons. There was a cupboard on the same wall as the door, and a barrel of water. Tony could also see a staircase leading to what must have been his room, but at least you can’t see it from the ground floor. But the main thing that caught Tony’s attention were the mounted trophies on the wall.  It was remarkably similar to an American hunter’s wall, only instead of deer antlers, there were dragon heads. Tony looked away, suddenly nervous. Judging by how people say the dragons reacted when Americans were trapping them, he really didn’t want to be here when the dragons retaliated against this. 

Instead of focusing on the heads, he walked up the stairs. He was annoyed to find there was no door or even a wall separating the room and giving him privacy, but at least it was high enough that the room wasn’t visible unless you climbed the steps. The room itself was simple, and considering Tony’s lack of possessions at the moment, more than spacious enough. A wooden bed stood in the middle of the room, still with no mattress Tony was displeased to find. To the left of the bed there was a dresser, which Tony ignored for the moment. To the right of the bed, there was a simple wood desk and chair, with a basket of full of sticks like the one Gothi had given him. One the desk, there were several candles, and a couple of small rocks. Upon closer inspection, Tony realized the rocks were flint, undoubtedly for lighting the candles. He rolled his eyes. Yeah, no. These people may be happy to live in the Middle Ages, but Tony was going to make a lighter, or at least some matches.

  
He sighed, and dropped the books Gothi had given him on the desk. He spent a good ten minutes trying to light a candle with the stupid rocks, before giving up and taking the candle downstairs to light in the fireplace. Then he burned one of the sticks the way Gothi had, and opened his journal to make a list of things he would need to do to get home. First was find a private place to work where no one would see what he was up to. The fact he was in the Chief’s home, and that his room had no walls meant he couldn’t do it here. Second, was to find the materials he would need for the radio. The forge seemed most likely to help him on that problem, and since he already knew Gobber, Tony didn’t think it would be a problem to get in there. And blacksmithing couldn’t be that different from engineering, just more hands-on. And Tony hand-made a lot of his inventions, not wanting someone else messing with his work. Making swords would be easy. So, he’d talk to Gobber and see about getting a job there. The man was missing a hand and a foot, he’d probably be glad for the help. Stoick had said Tony would need to help out in the village anyway. Third, he would need a way to get a signal to his radio. Tony exhaled. That one wouldn’t be easy. He’d have to hack into satellite signals, and he didn’t have a computer or even electricity. He groaned and rubbed his face, unknowingly smearing charcoal across his cheek from his makeshift pencil. This was looking more and more impossible as he thought about it. But he had to try. And first he had to get to Berk’s raw materials. So he closed his journal and set it on top of Gothi’s herbalist book, and stood up to stretch. Time to see Gobber in the forge.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...Tony still has a lot to learn about Berk's way of life, and their dragons.... As always, please let me know what you think, and what you anticipate is going to happen :)  
> \- Dandy


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty short, so I am hoping to get another one up soon. I had a weirdly large amount of trouble with this chapter, but hopefully it turned out okay. I'm pretty shocked by the response to this story, since it has 72 kudos and we're still in the INTRO of it! I started writing this purely for myself, because it was an idea I just couldn't let go of, and I never expected people to actually like it. I uploaded it thinking a couple of people might be interested in it, but I never thought people would really get into it like this. It's awesome to see! In the story, it's almost time for Tony to meet the teens of Berk. How do you guys think that will go? ;)

Tony walked out of the Chief's house, and looked around. He wasn’t too sure where to go, since he hadn’t been paying as much attention to his surroundings on the way there as he should have. But he knew the general direction he had come from, and set off. Sure enough, he entered the heart of the village after just a couple of short minutes. But this time, without Stoick at his side, he was met with more open reactions. Some people pushed forward to look at him, while others flinched back with curled lips.

“Look! It’s the Southerner!”

“Let me see! He’s so small, are they all like ‘im?” 

“If they are, they can keep ‘em. We don’t need mouths to feed that aren’t helpin’.” 

“Soft.” 

“Small.” 

“Useless.”

“Southern.”

Tony forced himself not to flinch away from the crowd of Vikings, or to react to their words. His physical size seemed to be all that mattered to these people, and he was beginning to wish he had just waited at Stoick’s house. He could have just followed him into town the next day and cut into Gobber’s forge. As Howard Stark’s son, he was used to being stared at. But not like this, where everyone is staring at best distrustfully, at worst hatefully. His chest was beginning to tighten with panic, and his breath was starting to shorten. But before he could decide if he should speak up or just turn tail and run, there was a sudden jostling in the crowd around him, and Vikings were cursing and stumbling back. Gobber burst into the bubble surrounding Tony, and Tony had never been so glad to see someone in his life.

“Don’t ya all got somethin’ better to be doin’? There are houses that need rebuildin’, food that needs collectin’, raids to prepare for! Do ya want the Chief to catch ya standing around gawkin’ at the Southern lad instead of preparing for the next fight?” 

Either the scolding or the warning did the trick. Vikings looked away and, muttering excuses, hurried off. Tony’s shoulders relaxed as relief washed over him. He gave Gobber a snarky grin to hide his relief, and said “Miss me already? Geez, who knew Vikings were so needy. Between you, Stoick, Gothi, and all those Vikings I may need to start selling tickets.”

Gobber gave his toothy grin, and answered “It’s morbid curiosity. Yer so weird lookin’ it’s almost like that two-headed toad the Thorston twins found last year!”

Tony recoiled in mock offence. “Weird? I’ll have you know, I am insanely attractive! Women pour themselves over my doorstep just hoping to check a glimpse of my gorgeous face!” Well, they did in teen magazines. Turns out, starting high school at twelve isn’t so great for meeting possible bed mates. Even though he had finished high school, he had yet to meet someone who was willing to sleep with the young, gawky teenager when there were muscular football players roaming the halls. He may have only been fourteen, but he went to school with people who had already finished puberty, and the social pressure to lose his V-card had been strong. Looks like he’ll have to push that plan even farther back, since he would have to get off of Berk first.

Gobber’s grin only widened, as if he knew Tony was bluffing. Probably did, since these people seemed to just see him as a skinny runt. But all he said was, “Come ‘n then! I gotta get back to work, swords to sharpen, axes to grind! We can talk in my lovely forge, and see if we can’t find a use for ya.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but was secretly pleased as he followed the Viking to the little building he had noticed on his way to Stoick’s house. Looks like it would be easier to get in the forge than he had anticipated.   

Gobber shoved the door open, and they walked in. The room was larger than it looked on the outside, but was so full of tools that there wasn’t much room to maneuver. There was a large grinding wheel across from the door, and several desks littered with tools and weapons. The forge itself was in the center of the room, and large enough to take up a good percentage of the floor space. There was a barrel of water next to it, and several weapon racks. There was a pile of junk next to the forge, and a closed door on the far side of the room. 

Gobber walked over to a project that was clearly half finished. It looked like a simple metal ball, and Tony frowned at it as he tried to figure out what it was. Gobber didn’t seem to notice as he resumed his work by pushing the ball into the embers of the forge. 

“So, you get moved into Stoick’s house alright? You two haven’t killed each other yet, so I’m assuming it went okay.” 

Tony blinked, pulled from his thoughts. “He took off before I even got inside, so yep, went great. As long as he keeps that up, I think we’ll get along great. Besides, not like I had a lot of stuff.”

Gobber grunted in response, focused on the metal ball as he began to try to drive nail into the softened metal. Tony winced, but didn’t say anything. Sure enough, just two taps of the hammer in the metal cracked down the middle. Gobber groaned, and tossed the broken ball into the pile of junk off to the side of the forge.

“Son of a half troll, there goes another one! Damned things, so delicate! One misstep and ya gotta start all over!”

This was Tony’s chance. He raised an eyebrow. “You know, if you drilled into it instead of trying to hammer it, it wouldn’t break so easily.”

Gobber paused in middle of digging around the junk pile, and eyed Tony. “Ya blacksmithed before, boy?” 

Easiest job interview ever. Tony shrugged. “I’m an engineer. It’s just blacksmithing with more math - and technology.” 

Gobber tossed a scrap of - _something_ \- at Tony. Startled, Tony just barely managed to catch it, and grunted under its weight. It seemed to be a twisted piece of iron. Confused, Tony glanced at Gobber. 

The man just gestured at it and said, “Well? That sword gonna fix itself, lad?”

Tony grinned, and hauled the poor piece of metal towards the forge. He spent the next several hours trying to straighten the thing, with Gobber occasionally looking over his shoulder and advising. And by advising, Tony meant bossing him around. But for once, Tony didn’t tell him to screw off. Turns out, blacksmithing is a lot different from engineering than he thought. He didn’t have any of his usual tools, and he had to eyeball of lot of things instead of measuring. It was based almost entirely on instinct and, as Gobber put it, _feeling_ the metal. It was also physically demanding in a way Tony hadn’t anticipated. The forge was burning hot, and the metal was heavy. Tony was quickly drenched in sweat and heaving for breath, although he tried to hide it from Gobber who tossed his projects around like they weighed no more than a screwdriver. While Tony struggled with the sword, dozens of Vikings came by the shop with weapons that didn’t need sharpening. Gobber kept them away to let Tony work, but that didn’t stop them from leaning around him to try to catch a glimpse of Tony. Tony ignored them. He had gotten into the zone, the zone that erased all concept of time and physical needs such as sleep and food. He worked on the sword for hours, although he had no idea how long. When the thing was finally straight, He dragged it to the huge grinding while and set to work. This he was familiar with, since it was still commonly used in America. 

Once Tony was finally satisfied, he sat back with a tired sigh, and eyed his work. It wasn’t perfect. Tony had realised pretty fast that while he might be an incredible engineer, even before going to college, he still had a lot to learn about blacksmithing. 

Gobber had some up behind Tony while he contemplated the weapon. The blacksmith picked it up and gave it a few swings. He grunted and gave a grudging nod. “Aye, not bad for a first time. Not bad at all. The metal’s brittle, ya dosed it in the water too many times, and the edge isn’t as smooth as it could be, but the balance is good. Looks like we mighta found a use for ya after all boy!” 

Tony rolled his eyes, but was secretly relieved that he was in. Hopefully as he learned more, he would get access to Berk’s raw materials, and be able to begin his radio. And fix the damn sword. Now that Gobber pointed out the mistakes, Tony’s perfectionism kicked in and his fingers itched to fix it. But now wasn’t the time. A glance outside showed a dark sky, and Tony had to get back to Stoick’s house. He stood up and stretched. “I’m good at everything Gobber, I can’t help it. It’s in my blood. Except directions. How do I get back to Stoick’s house from here?” 

Gobber snorted. “I’ll point ya in the right direction after we get some supper. I’m starved, ya worked us right through lunch! Come on then, let’s go get goin’ to the Great Hall.”

Great Hall? Sounds like an important building. And now that Tony was thinking about it, he was starving. And thirsty. He had lost a lot of fluid with all the sweating he did. He nodded and said “Lead the way, Stumpy.” Then froze. He had gotten so comfortable in the forge with Gobber, he had forgotten that he was still alone in a village of Vikings. And taunting one about his missing limb was probably a good way to lose his head.

His stomach wound up tight with anxiety and he opened his mouth to try to talk his way around the slip up, but before he could Gobber suddenly barked out a loud laugh. 

“I may be missin’ a couplea limbs boy, but I could still run circles around ya! Your short legs are more of a hindrance to ya then my missin’ foot is to me!” Still grinning, Gobber shook his head started towards the door. Then he glanced back to where Tony was still frozen by the forge. “Ya comin’ laddie?”

  
Tony blinked and said, “Ah, yeah, coming.” They left the forge and started up a large hill away from the central part of the village. Tony was pretty shocked  by Gobber’s reaction to his jab about his leg. In America, saying something like what Tony said is about as offensive as it gets, and is an excellent way to get a punch in the face. But Gobber didn’t seem even remotely bothered by it, only amused. Maybe Gobber is just laid-back, or maybe Vikings have a different set of social taboos. That was a pretty worrying thought, since it meant Tony could accidently say the wrong thing that could infuriate the Vikings. It felt like that every hour Tony spent on Berk, he found more and more potential landmines for disaster.


	7. Chapter 7

Tony was pretty shocked by the Great Hall. To be fair, all of the buildings he had seen so far had been very modest. This one definitely wasn’t. The Great Hall was built was built into the side of a cliff, which is probably why it was still standing. Even dragons can’t burn down a building that’s built _into_ a giant rock. The doors were massive, easily ten times Tony’s height. He barely managed to heave them open, which made Gobber give an unashamed grin. The inside was just as huge. There was a massive firepit in the center of the room, which had flames flickering around the edges. There were long tables around the pit, filled with Vikings eating dinner. Right by the fire, in the middle of all the long tables, was a huge circular table. No one was sitting at that one though, so Tony figured it must have a special purpose. 

Gobber walked towards the back of the room where the smell of roasting meat was wafting from. Tony followed silently. Once again, Vikings stared blatantly at him, but thankfully they seemed to find their food more interesting than Tony and stayed at their seats. Food was laid out in large pans along one of the tables. Tony noticed that the food was primarily calorie and protein-heavy foods, such as meat, potatoes, and eggs. There were a couple of vegetable and fruit opinions, but very little. No wonder these Vikings were built the way they were. Tony grabbed a plate and helped himself to a fish and a scoop of potatoes. He could practically hear Jarvis scolding him for the lack of green on his plate. He sighed, and took a small scoop of something green and leafy - lettuce? - and the smallest apple he’d ever seen in his life. He followed Gobber off to the side of the room, and they sat at a table that was thankfully empty of Vikings. Tony immediately dug into his meal, starving after his day at the forge. And he was still recovering from being lost at sea, so he figured that the more calories he got down the better. 

“So laddie, I figure that with some instruction, ya might just be able to pull yer weight at the forge! You interested in keeping up the work?” 

Tony looked up from his meal, momentarily stunned. “Are you _kidding_ ? I haven’t even gone to college yet, and I am already one of the best engineers in America. I have an I.Q. of 176. That’s genius level, since I know you don’t know that. My father is - was - the leader of weapon manufacturing for the United States military. I graduated high school at fourteen, I am supposed to start college at MIT, which is one of the best colleges in America. I created a circuit board when I was four, and an engine when I was seven. And you’re saying that with _instruction_ , I _might_ make a _decent_ blacksmith?” 

Gobber just gave a cheery grin and answered, “Yup! Ya still need some work, but I figure that since yer too small to help fight, you can make weapons for the _others_ to fight!” 

Tony scowled, both at the taunt of his size and the reminder of the dragons. But he didn’t want to argue with Gobber about the hunting, and figured he should wait to talk to Stoick. The last thing he needed was Gobber telling Stoick about it before Tony could, and screwing it up. 

He sighed. He still needed materials for his radio. “Yeah, I’ll work in the forge. When do you want me?” 

Gobber’s grin widened. “Take tomorrow off, look around the village and meet some people. Then just show up whenever ya get done with breakfast, and we’ll work till we’re done. Only time we really gotta press to get weapons done fast is during a raid, and right after.”

Tony nodded. Sounded easy enough. Also sounded like he would have plenty of free time to work on his radio. Gobber was definitely more relaxed than people who he was used to working with. Now if only Gobber’s cheery attitude would rub off on Stoick. Tony took a bite of the little apple, and immediately his face screwed up at the sour juice that ran over his tongue. _Fuck,_ but he had never tasted an apple that tart. No wonder these Vikings don’t eat many fruits if this is what they had to work with.  

Gobber had been watching expectantly as Tony bit into the apple, and now he howled with laughter. “I was waitin’ for that when I saw ya take it! This isn’t the South boy, the few vegetables that can grow here are tough and tasteless, and the fruits could eat right through yer teeth! Besides, ya need more meat on yer bones lad, so eat yer taters!” 

Tony forced the bite of apple down with a suppressed shudder, and rolled his eyes at Gobber. “Fruits and vegetables have nutrients that are essential for development and all-around health. And besides, I’m gonna eat my damn ‘ _taters’_. God you’re worse than Jarvis, but in the opposite way.”  

Gobber cocked his head and studied Tony. “Was that yer dad? The one who died on yer ship?”

Tony froze at the abrupt mention, startled. During all their hours working in the forge, Tony’s family and _The Seeker_ hadn’t come up once. He swallowed hard and glanced back at his plate. He hadn’t really had a chance to truly acknowledge that his family was gone, and he couldn’t deal with that fact now without falling apart. So he gave a quick head shake to try to dispel his thoughts, and replied to Gobber. “No, Jarvis is my family’s butler. He makes sure everything in the house runs smoothly, and takes care of us. He’s more family than my actual family.” He hadn’t meant to say that. He was shaken by the mention of his parents. It isn’t the sort of thing the son of Howard Stark could be caught by the media saying, but then he supposed that wasn’t really a problem here. Guess that’s one advantage of being stuck in a Viking village. They don’t care who Tony is, and aren’t looking for gossip they can sell to tabloids.  

Gobber nodded like that made perfect sense to him. “Aye. I don’t know how these things work with you Southerners, but for Vikings, family is important. And we believe that close bonds tie ya closer than just blood ever could. Stoick is my best friend, and although we don’t share any blood, he’s my brother in every way that matters. Sounds like this friend of yers is the one who’s yer _true_ family.” 

As goofy and ridiculous as Gobber tended to be, sometimes he had the ability to say something that just shut Tony right up. He had no idea what to say to that. Howard and Maria were his parents. Even if they were absent from a lot of his life, they were the only family he had. What would people say if Tony Stark publically said something like Gobber had just said? If Tony had said that Jarvis was his true family, and Howard was irrelevant? He could just imagine the backlash. There wasn’t much he had found he liked about the Vikings so far, but he wished Americans would take a page from their book on this. It would be nice if he could just live his life without every move being analysed and judged by the public. But it would never happen. 

So Tony just shrugged and tried to steer away from the subject. Besides, there were plenty of other things about _The Seeker_ to speculate on. “Well, he probably thinks I’m dead. The ship I was on would have automatically sent out a distress signal when it when down, and since they didn’t find me, they probably just assumed I died and my body was lost at sea. I still don’t know why no one came while I was on the raft. It shouldn’t have taken more than _maybe_ a day at most to reach the ship by air. Shorter if they sent someone from somewhere close than the U.S.” Tony had been thinking about it since waking up in Gothi’s hut. It really didn’t make any sense.  

Gobber shrugged. “I dunno much ‘bout Southerner’s ships, or yer air-ship thingies - “ 

“Airplanes.” 

“- But if you were close enough that yer little air boat could float into our waters, then you were pretty far ‘way from the Southern lands. It woulda taken ‘em a long time to get there, and once they did, there was probably there was probably nothin’ for ‘em to see and they wouldn’t even know where to look for ya.” 

It was a surprisingly reasonable conclusion, and Tony realized that Gobber was probably not as dumb as Tony had originally assumed. And with all the water around here, the Vikings were probably experienced with searching for survivors of shipwrecks. But he shook his head. “No, the ship’s GPS would have stayed online even of the power went down. They would have known exactly where the ship was, even below the water. And they can cover the ocean looking for survivors - or bodies - extremely fast. It just doesn’t make sense." 

Gobber shrugged. “Well, yer here now, and if they come get you then you can ask ‘em yerself. Now eat yer taters, boy!” 

Tony sighed. Gobber was right. There was nothing he could do now, and until be got back to America there was no way to find out what could have made _The Seeker_ go down, and what kept rescuers from finding Tony. So he ate his food, and the rest of the meal passed uneventfully, with Gobber chatting away about his weapons and the dragons. And laughing at the look on Tony’s face when he took a bite of the lettuce only to realize it was actually cabbage.  

Once they had finished eating, they left the Great Hall and Gobber pointed Tony towards a path that went back the way they came and told Tony to follow it until he reached Stoick’s house. Apparently, he would have to actually find it on his own. The Vikings definitely are not the kind of people to hold your hand through problems. Luckily, it was a straight path to the Chief’s home, and Tony found it without much trouble. By the time Tony got inside, Stoick was already there. He sat by the fire, holding a block of melting ice against his temple and gripping a large mug. Tony hesitated, unsure if he should just go up his loft room, or if he should say something. But before he could make up his mind, the Viking Chief glanced up. 

“I heard yer working in the forge with Gobber now.” 

Word  sure got around fast. Was this what it was like to live in a small town? “Yep, figured I should put my engineering skills to work. Blacksmithing is a lot more basic but hey you work with what you’ve got.” 

Stoick nodded. “It’s a good trade, and might help you strengthen up. And it will give you somewhere to work during the raids that’s out of the line of fire.” 

Tony took a deep breath at the opening, and decided there was no time like the present to set this straight. “Yeah, about the dragons...” 

Stoick’s eyes narrowed. Bad sign. “Yes?” 

“Americans used to have the same problems with them you know. We were capturing them for study, and they were attacking to try to save the captured dragons. We think they have a really complex social structure that gets fucked up when some are taken, which is why they were trying to save the dragons in captivity. They killed hundreds of people, and would always vanish right after an attack. No one knew where they came from.” 

Stoick’s face had remained flat and emotionless during Tony’s slightly rambled speech. He only said, “Used to?” 

Tony nodded, fast. “Yeah, it took a long time because people were pissed about the dragons attacking, but eventually it was made illegal to capture or kill dragons. All the captured dragons were released, and the attacks stopped, just like that. We still see them sometimes flying over, but they stay really high up and never land by people. They don’t bother us anymore.” 

Stoick’s face still revealed nothing, and it was making Tony nervous. It was like when Tony was rambling and Howard was losing patience with him. 

Slowly Stoick said, “And what does that have to do with Berk’s dragons?” 

Tony blinked at him, his chest starting to feel tight with anxiety. “Well, you guys can do the same. Next time the dragons come, don’t fight with them. Stay inside, and rebuild once they’re gone. It’s nothing you haven’t done before. Get rid of the dead dragon heads, and stop killing them. Then they’ll leave you alone.” 

Now Stoick’s face changed. But not like Tony had hoped. His face darkened with rage, and his hand tightened around the mug he gripped. He slammed the block of ice he held onto the table next to him. “We will _not_ stand idly by as dragons burn our village and slaughter our families! We will fight and drive them away or die trying! We are Vikings, and we will not cower with fear and allow the dragons to conquer us! You are an outsider boy, a guest of Berk, and you’d do best to watch your tongue!”   

Tony’s teeth and snapped together at Stoick’s shout, and all his instincts told him to let it go, and get away from Stoick before his temper boiled over. Howard had blown up at Tony plenty of times, and if it got to the point of shouting there was usually no way out of leaving the scene without a bloodied nose. But Stoick hadn’t made a violent move yet, and Tony _had_ to try. “This isn’t about winning or losing! They’re _animals!_ They don’t think like that! If you stop killing them, they’ll stop attacking! This isn’t - “ 

Tony was cut off when Stoick threw his mug to the ground and lunged to his feet. “ENOUGH! The dragons aren’t some troublesome wolves, they’re the most dangerous animals on the planet and they’re _killers!_ They’ve been killing us for three hundred years! I’ve given funerals to pregnant women, old blind men, children! They killed my _wife!_ They kill mercilessly, and they don’t do it to _protect_ each other, or whatever yer thinking! They steal food, and fight among themselves for it! They have no _honor_ , they don’t care about anything but their next meal!” 

Tony had automatically stepped back when Stoick lept from his chair, and the tight feeling in his chest spread to his whole body. “But-” 

“No! You are not one of us boy, and you don’t get to argue about -” 

Stoick took a step towards Tony, and his huge hands closed into tight fists. Tony didn’t think. He jerked back hard, head ducking and shoulders hunching, eyes closed, as he waited for the blow. It didn’t come. There were a couple of seconds where everything was frozen, the only sound was the fire crackling. Tony cautiously glanced up. Stoick was standing right where he had been, and his fists had opened and hung at his sides. There was an unreadable expression on his face. Tony quickly glanced away again, suddenly humiliated.

“Uh, okay, um, you do you then. Night!” He fled up the stairs to the loft. Thankfully, Stoick didn’t follow him. Tony sat on the edge of his bed, frozen, and listened to Stoick move around downstairs. A few seconds passed before the man moved at all, then Tony heard him cleaning up his spilled drink and dispose of what must have been the block of ice. Then the candles were put out, and the only light was the flickering fireplace. Stoick’s heavy footsteps carried him to his room on the ground floor, and a door closed. The fireplace was the only sound in the house. Tony took a deep breath. So, Stoick hadn’t lashed out physically when antagonized. That was a good sign that maybe Tony wouldn’t get killed for saying the wrong thing. On the downside, he just cowered like a beaten dog in front of a Viking Chief, which is more than a little humiliating. But there was nothing he could do about it now, and it should be easy to avoid Stoick in the morning. Hopefully he would forget about it during the day. Tony moved from his bed to desk, and fought with the flint rocks again. He had forgotten to make matches. Normally he would go light them in the fire again, but he didn’t want to risk going back downstairs and possibly bumping into Stoick. It took him nearly twenty minutes, but he managed to light one of the candles. Victorious, he used that one to light another candle so the whole room was washed in dim, flickering candlelight. 

He grabbed his stick from the morning and burned it again to make sure he had plenty of charcoal to work with. Then he opened his journal and recorded the accomplishments of the day, and observations. He had decided to tackle this as a scientific project, and try to think of things as steps. He recorded behaviors of Vikings he had noticed, everything from Gobber laughing at Tony’s remark about his leg, to the confrontation with Stoick. If he could keep track their reactions, hopefully he could predict future behaviors and have a better idea of how to handle the Vikings. He sighed, and set the stick-pencil down. Getting home wasn’t looking good. The only materials he had noticed in the forge had been iron, with no copper or rubber, or anything else he would need to make the circuitry and wiring. He was hoping maybe they had just been stored in another part of the forge - he never looked in the room with the closed door - but he also hadn’t seen anything made from anything other than wood or metal. But he would have to do a thorough search of the forge once Gobber trusts him enough to leave him alone there. He didn’t have a choice. Until he had exhausted every possibility, he had to keep trying. With that in mind, Tony pulled the herbalist book Gothi had given him closer, and flipped back to the page he had been working on. He was making progress, and already had a rough understanding of a few of the symbols. He knew he needed to be able to read, and try to find more information in whatever books the Vikings had. If there was anything Tony was sure of, it was that knowledge was power, and here he would need all the power he could get.        

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to bring Berk's teens in on this chapter, but it ended up being too long. They'll come in next time, promise! Also, what do you guys think happened to the Seeker? :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 KUDOS! HOLY MOTHER OF GOD. I'm throwing in a chapter early as celebration! Thanks so much! Also, a quick clarification: Hiccup does not exist as a separate character. I am combining him and Tony, and Tony will seem more like Hiccup as the story goes on and the dragons come into the picture (Although he will not be completely Hiccup - Tony has lived a different life after all). So Stoick does not and never had a son, and Tony will be filling his role in some places (But not all). Because this is an AU, some things will be changed. Although I am going to try keep all major events in all the movies this story takes place in, some things might happen differently. Let me know if something isn’t clear!  
> \- Dandy

After the confrontation with Stoick, the night passed uneventfully. Tony found fur blankets in the wood dresser, as well as more clothing and a fur vest. That would definitely be helpful, cold as Berk was. He slept surprisingly well, with no nightmares. He wasn’t even kept awake by the wood bed, or Stoick’s thundering snores. The forge really wore him out. The next morning, he woke up from the sun shining through the large window in his room. He groaned and covered his face with the fur, having decided that the smell bothered him less than the sunlight. But he was woken up only minutes later by Stoick slamming around the kitchen area. He sighed, and sat up. Guess Berkians are ‘rise with the sun’ kind of people. He slipped his fur boots on to avoid touching the cold floor, and quickly moved to dig out the fur vest, trying to avoid the morning chill. He could hear Stoick adding logs to the fire, which would hopefully help. 

He moved quietly, to avoid letting Stoick know he was awake. He would rather avoid the man after the embarrassing episode last night. Tony hoped that Stoick would forget about it as the day went on. He went to his desk, and grabbed his journal and the stick-pencil he used last night. Gobber had said to take the day to settle in, so he planned on making a map of Berk. He would start out with just the village, and if he could get his hands on a compass he would look around more of the island. He needed to have an understanding of the village just to find his way around, and he needed to know the geography of the island in case he was able to contact someone who could help him get home. 

The front door slammed shut as Stoick left to do whatever it is he does as Chief. Good, he wasn’t going to try to wait or seek Tony out to talk. Tony was pleased to find a pocket in the inside of his vest that was the perfect size to hold his journal and pencil. The size was so ideal, he wondered if Stoick had had it specially added. After all, he had seen Tony carrying the journal when he took him to his house. The thought made Tony uncomfortable in that way that happens when people do something thoughtful for seemly no reason. He decided not to dwell on it. He moved down the stairs, cautious, but Stoick was definitely gone. He went outside, and found the weather was cloudy and threatening rain. Great. He started down the path he had some from yesterday, and pulled out his journal to begin a map of the village. He marked Stoick’s house, and as he passed the forge, added that as the center of his map, since it seemed to be in the heart of the village. Vikings watched as he passed, but interest already seemed to be dwindling, since no one approached or mobbed him like they had yesterday. First place he went was the Great Hall to get some breakfast, and added it to his map. Inside, the place was surprisingly empty. Looks like he missed the breakfast rush. But there were still plates of food laid out. Seems Vikings like to have food on hand whenever they could possibly want it. Tony fixed himself a plate and walked to one of the tables to sit and eat. Now that the room wasn’t crammed with Vikings he could get a better view of the place. There was a room separate from the main space, where he assumed the food was stored and cooked. There was a wall filled with shields that had paintings on them. He would take a closer look at that later. Most interestingly, there were three large book shelves along the backwall crammed with leather bound books. Guess this would be the place to store them, since books probably wouldn’t like dragon fire. Tony quickly disposed of his plate, and moved to the shelves for a better look. He spent close to an hour pulling books out and flipping through them for any information. He wasn’t nearly good enough with the runes to read, so he looked for images that might be helpful. Vikings didn’t seem to be big readers, so the books had a lot of pictures. A lot of them were detailed drawings of dragons, often impaled on a sword or writhing in agony on the ground. He found one book filled with nothing but dragons, and what must have been information about them. A lot of the books had dragons, but this one was different. The formatting suggested each page had facts on the dragon draw on it, but without the ability to read it, Tony couldn’t figure out anything more specific. The last page of the book confused him. There were a couple of sentences, but no picture, and it was mostly blank. He shuddered and quickly put the book back where he had found it. The next book he pulled out was filled with maps, of Berk and of the surrounding areas. Pleased, he quickly drew himself a copy in his journal of one of the maps of the island of Berk. He decided to continue to make himself one of the village, since he trusted his skills more and it would help him learn how to get around. 

Once he had his map, he replaced the book and stretched. There really nothing else he could do with the books until he was able to read their language. He would have to put more work into learning the runes. He moved over to the wall he had noticed the painted shields on. Each one had a picture of a large, muscular adult, with an equally muscular teenager. He frowned at them. Was this some kind of Hall of Fame? The more muscle-y, the better? He’d have to ask Gobber. 

Tony finally left the Great Hall, and opened his map again. He followed it back to the forge, and began to span out, drawing in the paths as he went. Vikings still stared at him, but it was pretty clear they were rapidly losing interest in him now that he’d been here for a couple of days. He made his way back up to Gothi’s hut and paused, wondering if he should knock. But he had no idea what to say to her. He left again, walking out of the main village along a stone path. The path led him out of sight of the village, and just as he was debating if he should turn around, he rounded a corner and stopped, startled. There was a huge pit in the ground, lined with stone. It was topped by a massive metal net, and he could see doors to large cages inside. One of them rattled, and the animal inside let out a terrifying roar. Tony stared, stomach sinking. This was _bad_ . The Vikings were capturing dragons? That’s why they’re attacking! It’s the same as it was in America! Those _idiots!_ And Stoick wouldn’t listen to him so of course the dragons would keep attacking! If there was nothing Tony could do to stop the attacks, he would have to focus on getting off of Berk as soon as possible. And of course that wasn’t going to be easy. Tony groaned, rubbing his face.  

“Hey! Who’s over there?” 

Startled, Tony quickly dropped his hands from his face and looked around, hoping that he hadn’t just stumbled up on some secret he wasn’t supposed to know about. But it was too close to the village for a hidden place, right? And the Vikings certainly made no secret of their hatred of dragons. Tony opened his mouth to answer the person, but before he could, a group of Vikings came out of the entrance of the pit. Young Vikings. None of them could be more than a couple of years off of his age, one way or the other. 

They moved towards Tony, led by a boy so heavily bound with muscle Tony would be certain he used steroids if it wasn’t for the fact that Vikings didn’t have medicine anywhere near that modern. He was followed by two lean, but strong looking blonds, one male and one female. They were clearly siblings. There was also a massive boy, nearly six-foot tall, and fat. Although he was the largest of the group, his head was lowered submissively, and he look nervous. The last one was a drop-dead gorgeous blonde girl. She wore a spiked skirt, and metal shoulder armor. She carried a battle axe as if it were a purse. She also looked bored and irritated, as if she wasn’t happy about the company she was currently in.

The muscle-bound boy in front swaggered forward to get in Tony’s face. Tony instinctively curled his lip and leaned back from the smell oozing from the kid. 

The kid stared at Tony for a couple of seconds, then suddenly barked out a laugh. “HA! This must be the Southerner! My dad said he was small, but I didn’t think he would be this small! Look at him! He’s a fucking runt! A HICCUP!” The kid leaned over, howling with laughter. Tony stared flatly at him, unimpressed. He didn’t know what being a hiccup meant, but it was pretty clear that it wasn’t a compliment. 

Making sure his voice conveyed his disinterest, Tony said “My name is Tony Stark. I'm from America.” 

The kid grinned. “Babe, are you hearing this? ‘ _I_ ' _m from America!’_ Big fucking deal kid, you’re just a little hiccup, waiting to be snapped up by a dragon!” 

The pretty girl didn’t stop inspecting her axe. “Snotlout, if you call me that one more time I’ll feed you your eyes.” 

The lean blond boy gave a wide, mischievous grin and leaned forward. “He wouldn’t even be a meal for a dragon, just a toothpick!”

“Yeah, a toothpick!” The blond’s sister threw in.

Apparently, the brother objected to that. “Hey! Don’t steal my insults, ugly!” 

She glared. “It was my insult first! I said it first, when Mom told us about him!” 

“Did not!” 

“Did too!” 

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

The muscular boy, Snotlout apparently, snapped at them, “Will you two idiots shut the fuck up!” Thank God someone said it. Tony felt like that could have gone on forever. 

Snotlout turned his mean grin back on Tony. “So, little hiccup, what’re you doing here at the dragon arena? Can’t wait for a raid to get eaten?” 

Tony glared. “I told you, my name is Tony Stark. I’m mapping out the village, if you absolutely _must_ know.”

The large boy in the back perked up at that. “You are? Can I see? Have you seen the maps in the Great Hall? I redid a lot of them myself, I - ” 

Snotlout interrupted again. “Shut up Fishlegs! No one cares about your stupid papers!” 

Tony cares. If there’s actually a Viking who’s interested in more than just killing dragons, Tony was eager to talk to him. But Tony went through high school at an incredibly young age, and had gained enough experience to recognize Snotlout as a bully. And the way Fishlegs ducked his head at Snotlout’s words told Tony that it would be best for Fishlegs to leave him alone for the moment and not draw more attention to him. 

But it seemed that Snotlout had more interesting fish to fry today. “Your arms are like twigs! What the hell could _you_ be useful for? Bucket and Mulch should’ve left you to die on your little boat!” 

Tony’s ground his teeth, forced himself not to rise to the bait. He wouldn’t be able to protect himself against even one of these Viking teens, let alone the whole group. He couldn’t risk pissing them off. But he couldn’t say _nothing_. Speaking calmly, he said “I’m an engineer, and an inventor. I built technology that’s never even existed here when I was four.” 

Snotlout scowled at him. “We don’t need machines to do all our work for us! Because we aren’t _runts_ ! We’re Vikings, and all we need are muscles like _these!"_  He proudly flexed his - admittedly impressive - biceps. “Not that _you_ would understand!” 

Tony decided he should leave before he said something that could make this worse. “Yeah, okay, I’m sure you … _exercise_  … your arm muscles every night before going to sleep. I am going to continue my map.” 

Tony turned to walk away, but before he could take a step a strong hand grabbed his arm. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean! You don’t get to say shit about me, even if I don’t get it! I still know, and you will _regret it!_ ” 

Shit. Tony opened his mouth, but the pretty blonde beat him to it. “Leave him alone Snotlout. You heard what the Chief said. He’s a guest, and we have to treat him like one.” 

Immediately, Snotlout let Tony go to turn his attention to the girl. “Yeah of course Astrid! He doesn’t matter, we should get back to you and me!” 

“There is no you and me Snotlout. Shut up before my axe eats your fingers.” 

“Okay, okay! Jeez, babe I was just -” 

“What did I say about calling me - “ 

Tony took the opportunity to slip away. The teens don’t seem all that different from the adults, in terms of beliefs. Although oddly enough, their accent is much less thick. And the boy, Fishlegs, seemed to be fairly intelligent for Vikings. Maybe he would be willing to answer some of Tony’s questions, if he could get him alone. And the girl, Astrid, maybe? Yeah, Snotlout had called her Astrid. She obviously wasn’t fond of the other teens. But Snotlout and the blond siblings were clearly friends who wouldn’t hesitate to prey on the weak. Tony would have to be careful.

He moved back towards the village, and followed the paths winding around houses and stores, adding them to his map. He went down to the docks, and noticed again the old crane, and the ships. There were Vikings hauling nets full of fish, and people carrying crates and barrels of who knows what. Probably other resources, like salt. An old, cloudy eyed man smiled at Tony, called him Håkon, and gave him a roasted fish even when Tony tried to tell him that he didn’t know who that was. Tony was grateful for the fish all the same, since he’d missed lunch and probably dinner, since the sun was going down. Tony ate the fish, and decided to head back to Stoick’s house. He had finished his map of the village, had a fully belly, and was ready to work on his reading and go to bed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Stoick went straight to the forge after leaving his house. The Southern boy was still thankfully still asleep, putting of the conversation Stoick was dreading. Gobber was already working when Stoick arrived. He looked up when Stoick walked in, and raised an eyebrow. Stoick rarely went into the forge, usually speaking to Gobber through the service window of the building. 

“So, I take it somethin’ went wrong with the lad?” 

Stoick sighed. “How’d ya know?”

Gobber grinned. “Ya got a certain scowl just for ‘im. So, what ‘appened?” 

Stoick frowned, remember the night before. “Do ya know anything about how Southerners raise their children?” 

Gobber blinked, caught off guard. “Nah, you’d be more likely to know than me. Why, did the lad finally flinch ‘way from ya?” 

Stoick stared at him. “You were expecting it?” 

Gobber shrugged. “Gothi was acting oddly gentle with ‘im. Still smacked ‘im around of course, but she used the flat of her hand, not her staff. And she practically waited and ‘im hand and foot! When I was headed home after work that night, I looked in the window to check on ‘im, and he was awake and spooked ‘bout somethin’. She made ‘im hot yak milk, Stoick. Only people she’s that careful with are people who need it.”

“Why didn’t ya _warn_ me, Gobber?”

“Well, I didn’t know _why!_ I only figured it out when ya asked me about Southerners raising their kids!” 

Stoick sighed. “He wanted us to stop fighting the dragons. He has this ridiculous idea that they’re _defending_ each other.” 

Gobber chuckled. “I imagine ya took that real well, Stoick.”

He shook his head, rueful. “No, that I didn’t. He was givin’ all these reasons why we should just show our bellies to the lizards, and all I could see was Val’s terrified face when that four-winged beast carried her ‘way." 

Gobber’s face sobered. “It was nearly fifteen years ago Stoick.” 

“I know Gobber. I’ve tried to move on, but I can’t as long as the devils are still widowing more spouses and orphaning our children. I lost my temper, I admit it. I shouted, and I could tell he was uneasy, but he didn’t back down until I took a step towards ‘im. Then he acted as if I would strike ‘im.” 

Gobber titled his head. “Well, he doesn’t know us. Maybe he was just bein’ careful. Doesn’t mean ‘is family would beat ‘im.” 

Stoick shook his head. “No, ya didn’t see ‘im Gobber. He wasn’t bein’ _careful_. He flinched outta reflex. He fully expected that I would strike ‘im, a child. Then he ran up to his room and didn’t come down for the rest of the night.” 

“Did ya go up to talk to ‘im?” Gobber asked. 

“No, of course not. I wanted ‘im to have a chance to settle down again. And I have no idea what to say to ‘im.” 

Gobber nodded. “Aye, that makes sense. He mighta thought you were chasing ‘im at the time. But ya need to talk to ‘im, Stoick. He doesn’t know our customs anymore than we know ‘is. He needs to know what to expect from us.” 

Stoick grimaced. “Can’t you do it? He’s comfortable with you, and you’ve spent more time with ‘im than I have.” 

Gobber grinned at Stoick and shook his head. “Now Stoick, ya know you gotta be the one to do it. You’re the one he’s unsure of, and the one in charge of ‘im, _and_ the Chief. Just tell ‘im how we handle these things, and give it time for him to know we aren’t lyin’. He’ll settle eventually, Stoick.” 

Stoick frowned at the floor, thinking.  “I don’t know what the Southerners’ customs for child rearing are. That behavior might be completely normal for them. We know almost nothing about them.” 

Gobber nodded, thoughtful. “Based on what we do know, it wouldn’t be that unbelievable. They’re cowardly people, who wouldn’t be brave enough to pick a fight with someone who could fight back. And by strikin' their kids, they’re teachin' them fear they would continue carry as adults, then it would repeat.” 

Stoick sighed and sat heavily in the chair by one of Gobber’s work benches. “This is why Frigg never blessed Val and me with children.” 

Gobber patted Stoick’s shoulder. “The lad is hardly yer usual Viking child. Just talk to ‘im, Stoick, and give ‘im time. That’s all ya gotta do. He’ll calm.”

The Chief gave a heavy sigh and shoved out of the chair he had just sat in. “Fine. I’ll speak with ‘im tonight. Why isn’t he here anyway? I thought ya took ‘im on as an apprentice.” 

“Aye, I did. The lad has good instincts with the metal. But I told ‘im to take today off to get acquainted with the village.” 

Stoick nodded. “Good, good. The sooner he learns his way around the better. And if the others see ‘im acting like any of the other teens they’ll find other gossip to talk about. I’m gonna get back to work. Thanks, Gobber.”

  
Gobber gave a cheery wave, already turning back to his work as Stoick left the forge.


	9. Chapter 9

When Tony got back to Stoick’s house, the Chief was still gone. Relieved, Tony tossed his journal on the table and noticed a bowl of water and a cloth. It was clearly for cleaning. Tony sighed, mourning hot showers. But he was grimy from the forge and a day of wandering Berk, so he grabbed the cloth and wiped himself down the best he could. Maybe the next time he got some time off, he would explore the island outside of the village and see if he could find a lake he could take an actual bath in. That wasn’t a thought Tony thought he’d ever have. 

Tony has just straightening his shirt when the door banged open. Startled, Tony’s head snapped up to meet Stoick’s eyes. The Chief looked entirely too uncomfortable for Tony’s tastes. He clearly hadn’t let the episode from last night go, so it would probably be best for Tony to stay upstairs to prevent the awkwardness. 

He grabbed his journal from the table and said, “Hiya oh-mighty-Viking-Chief, welcome home, sorry I don’t have dinner ready but I trust you can fend for yourself. I’ll just be upstairs -” 

“Wait, lad. We have talk.” 

_Damn._ “Am I in trouble already? Because it feels like it. Should I call a lawyer? I mean, do Viking have lawyers? Probably not. You also don’t have phones to call from. Should I shout for one? Maybe one would materialize if I shouted loud enough. Isn’t that the kind of things your Gods do? What about if I -” 

“I’m not any more comfortable with this than you, boy. But I think we have some things to clear up.” 

Tony scowled. “Why does no one on this island call me by my name? Not once! You do know it, right? It’s Tony Stark. Or just Tony. That’s two syllables, I think even Vikings could remember that.” 

Stoick sighed. “Your name is strange to us, and it’s hard for us to remember when it’s so different from any Viking name. It’s also a reminder that you come from a land that is a constant threat to our way of life. It makes people uncomfortable. Now, stop trying to change the subject. Lets just get this over with as quickly as possible for both our sakes, okay lad?” 

Tony sighed. He clearly wasn’t getting out of this. And it was a small comfort that Stoick was clearly just as uncomfortable as Tony. So he gave a grudging nod. 

Stoick sat heavily at his chair by the fire, and looked at the fire, avoiding Tony’s eyes. “Look lad, I know almost nothing about Southern customs or how they handle children. I imagine you know just as little about us and what to expect from us, right?”

Stoick glanced at Tony at this, so he nodded. 

Stoick looked back to the flames and continued. “By our laws, you are still a child. Children on Berk come of age when they turn sixteen. They spend their lives learning how to fight, and begin training to fight dragons specifically when they turn fifteen. It is firmly against our laws and our beliefs to lay a hand on a child in anger. On Berk, all who are able must help fight, or else we would perish. That means they must have bravery, and a child who has spent their life cowering in fear from adults they cannot hope to best in a fight cannot be brave. So, any adult who lays a hand on a child is subject to severe discipline. It’s one of our most strict laws. Children fight amongst themselves, and adult amongst themselves, and which is fine according to our laws. It helps teach children to fight if they learn so from squabbling, and helps adults stay in fighting form. As long as lives aren’t endangered of course.” 

Stoick glanced at Tony again, to make sure he was following. Tony thought it over. Kids can fight among themselves, and adults among adults? But adults can’t hit kids? Looser than America’s laws to be sure, where you can be arrested for hitting anyone, kid or adult, but stricter than Tony would have expected from Vikings. So, Stoick is basically saying Tony has nothing to fear from adults, but the other teens are fair game? As long as they don’t try to kill him? He hadn’t expected the Vikings to protect him in any way, so this was still more than he had hoped. At least they would protect his life, if not his well-being. But he would have to tread lightly. These people trained their whole lives, and until Tony had started working in the forge, he had never touched a sword in his life. He had basic self-defense training, but that was it. But it was something. And there were a lot more adults than teenagers on Berk, so if Stoick was telling the truth than Tony had a lot less people he had to be careful than he had thought. But time would tell if Stoick was being truthful, and Tony had reason to know that just because something is illegal, doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. 

He thought all this through in only a second, and nodded at Stoick to show he understood. But rather than that being the end of it, as he’d hoped, Stoick continued.

“I gathered from last night that things in the South don’t work quite the same as up here, in the child-rearing sense. Is that a common occurrence there, to strike a child?” 

Shit. This was the part of the conversation Tony _didn’t_ want to have. He gave his head a quick shake. “No, I mean it’s illegal, but I think you’ve got the wrong idea. My dad didn’t, like, beat me bloody or anything. I mean, he’d like, smack me out of his way sometimes, or if I was being annoying, but he never broke my bones or really injured me. He wasn’t around enough to really fuck me up anyway, since he worked most of the time, and my mom was rarely home, so really I didn’t even have enough contact with him for him to like, regularly beat me up or anything. And I went to boarding school, so I would be home on holidays and for the summer, and combined with his work schedule we just didn’t see much of each other.” 

Tony took a breath after babbling out more information than he probably should have given, but he had never talked about his relationship with his dad with anyone but Jarvis, and he was afraid of giving Stoick the wrong idea. Because he wasn’t some battered wife, and his father didn’t _abuse_ him. Sure, he was kind of a prick sometimes, but Tony wasn’t afraid of him, not really. He wasn’t a sniveling coward like Stoick had hinted at. He was a Stark, and Starks were made of iron. He had learned how to dodge, yes, but every family had problems behind closed doors. Nobody actually had perfect, fairy-tale families where the dad came home from work and hugged his happy kids, while his doting wife put dinner on the table. Every family had the part they showed the world, and the rotten part they hid. 

Stoick was frowning over the information given. “He wasn’t in your life much? But then who taught you things, things about growing up?” 

Tony snorted. “You know, we have things like the internet. I can just Google how to shave. And I have Jarvis, our bulter. But we have a larger spectrum for life examples than just our parents.” 

Stoick shook his head. “Our parents are supposed to be the ones to teach us. And here on Berk, striking a child, even if causes no serious injury, is not allowed. If any adult, ever, in any form, lays a hand on you in anger, tell me, or Gobber, or Gothi, and it will be dealt with. It is not only for your protection, but for every other child on Berk as well.” 

Tony nodded, quickly, eager to get this conversation over with now that it seemed the finish line was in sight. “Yeah, sure, no prob.” 

Stoick sighed and relaxed, looking as relieved as Tony that the uncomfortable conversation was over. “Gobber said you had the day off. Did you explore Berk?” 

Tony nodded, surprised that Stoick was still talking to him when it wasn’t for a necessary conversation. “Yeah, I mapped out the village to help me figure out where everything is. Got all of it done today, since Berk isn’t that big.” 

Stoick looked up from the fire, surprised. “A map? Of the village? Interesting idea. Mind if I see it?” 

Tony blinked it him, and nodded, cautious. He wasn’t sure if he trusted this sudden, friendly mood. But he grabbed his journal and flipped it open to the map he had made, and handed it over. Stoick took it carefully, and studied it for a moment. 

“This is very well done. You have a good hand, and a good eye. Is this your written tongue?” He point at a Tony’s label for the docks. Tony nodded. 

“Never heard it called a ‘tongue’ before though. It’s written in the English language, which coincidentally is also what we speak. I’ve never seen the symbols like what you use before.” 

Stoick titles his head, still studying the map. “Vikings aren’t big readers. There are only a few people who can read the runes. I can, since I’m the Chief and have to be able to read and make records, letters, things like that. Gothi, since she’s the Elder. Gobber, because he works closely with both Gothi and myself. A couple of the teens. Fishlegs, because he is interested in that kinda thing, and Astrid, because she is my heir.” 

Tony nodded. “I bumped into them today. Fishlegs, he’s the big one, and Astrid’s the blonde with the axe?”

Stoick chuckled. “Yes, that’s them. Snotlout is my nephew, he’s the strong boy with dark hair and ram horns on his helmet. Fishlegs is a big lad who usually has his nose in a book. Then there are the twins, blond and constantly getting into trouble. Ruffnut is the girl, and Tuffnut is the boy. Astrid is the last one, with the axe.” 

Tony frowned, confused. “Wait, if you have a nephew, wouldn’t he have been your heir? Not Astrid?” 

Stoick shrugged. “Normally yes. But while Snotlout is a great fighter and has the build to demand respect from the people, he lacks pretty much every other chief quality.” He gave Tony a small grin from under his beard, like they were sharing a secret. “Basically, he’s an idiot.”   

Tony grinned back. “Yeah, I kind of picked up on that.”

Stoick smiled at Tony. “We should probably head to bed. The sun’s gone down, and we both have a full day tomorrow.” 

Tony nodded, but was surprised to find that he didn’t really want to. He liked talking to Stoick, now that they were past the awkward conversation about Tony’s family. But when Stoick stood up, Tony did too and helped him put out the candles. Then they separated, Stoick heading to his room and Tony up the stairs. 

He sat at his bed. He was surprised by how friendly Stoick had been. He seemed at uncomfortable as Tony, but once they were passed the initial conversation he seemed downright friendly. Maybe this would work out after all.   

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

The next morning, Tony got up when he was woken by Stoick crashing around. He grabbed his journal and his pencil, and stuck them in his fur vest again. This time, Tony went down the stairs without waiting for Stoick to leave and found the Chief building the fire back up after it had burned down to coals during the night 

Stoick glanced up at Tony. “Morning lad. I made some eggs for you, they’re on the table.” 

Tony blinked. “I thought Vikings eat in the Great Hall?” 

Stoick nodded absently, still focused on the fire. “Sometimes, yes. But everyone also has food in their houses if they don’t feel like or don’t have time to go to the Great Hall. Just a little though, so we don’t lose too much during raids.” 

Tony nodded, and sat at the table where the plate of eggs were sitting. Stoick was still being surprisingly nice, but if Stoick wanted to start over and _not_ be screaming at each other all the time, Tony was game. Still, he would be careful. He couldn’t trust this mood to last without more evidence to support it. At least Stoick wasn’t handling Tony with kid gloves, or looking at him with pity. Then again, Tony wasn’t sure Vikings were capable of pity. They haven’t been like he expected, but they were still pretty brutal people. 

He ate the eggs. They had more flavor than store-bought eggs, even the organic ones Jarvis bought. They were good. Stoick left just as Tony was finishing, telling him to just wash his plate with some water from the water barrel. Tony had never actually washed a plate before. But since the only soap was a hard brick right by the barrel, Tony didn’t have much trouble. He found the cabinet holding the dishes and put it away, then did a quick exploration. He discovered a small crawl space covered by a trap door that was full of food and barrels that smelled like rotten fruit and alcohol. Gross. In the kitchen area, there were tools for sharpening blades, a wooden cabinet filled with ice, and some chunks of hard bread and salted fish. There was definitely a lot of fish on Berk, which made sense since it was such of a small island. Tony was grateful that he like seafood. 

After his quick search of the kitchen, Tony made sure he had his journal and set off for the forge. He was pleased when he didn’t need the map to find it and arrived to find Gobber lighting the forge. 

“Morning laddie! We’ve already got some orders in, so grab that apron and get to work!” 

Tony glanced towards where Gobber gestured, and saw that there was a blacksmithing apron hanging on a hook by one of the workbenches. Gobber, or someone, must have made it for him. He put it on and took the huge axe Gobber handed him for sharpening. 

He worked all day, with no idea of time passing. He was surprised by how much he _enjoyed_ smithing. It was fun, challenging in a way engineering wasn’t. And there were enough similarities to sooth his mind’s itching. Gobber let Tony stay in the forge unsupervised when he went for lunch, since it was clear Tony wasn’t ready to quit. He brought Tony back some chicken and a hunk of bread, and made him pause long enough to eat it. After lunch, Gobber started having Tony take orders as well, which had some mixed results. But the Vikings seemed willing to give Tony a chance, although a few wanted reassurance that Gobber was keeping an eye on him and Tony wasn’t about to destroy their favorite sword. 

Tony’s work-induced tunnel-vision was broken when he went up to take the weapon from the newest customer and found Astrid standing at the window with her axe. She looked just as surprised to see him. 

“Oh. I heard you were working in the forge. I forgot I guess. Can you repair the blade of my axe for me? I chipped it on a tree.” 

Tony was still scrambling for his balance. “Yeah, easy. Why are you beating up trees anyway? Isn’t nature sacred around here? And you’re the only teen I’ve seen with a weapon, but aren’t you still under the age Berk considers adults? I mean, don’t get me wrong I bet you’re totally awesome with it but is just anyone allowed to have weapons, where’s the age limit? Is there one? I mean -” 

Astrid thankful interrupted him before he could continue. “We get weapons when our parents deem us ready. And I am great with my axe. I was practicing my aim in the forest, since we are almost old enough to start Dragon Training. I have to be the best, since I’m the heir and I have to prove myself. Now, would you please just fix it?” 

Tony snapped his mouth shut before he could embarrass himself further, and nodded quickly. She handed him the weapon, and turned around and stalked off. Tony turned back to the forge, attention quickly returning to work and what he would need to do to repair the axe. But he stopped and stared at Gobber when he found the man looking at him with a mile-wide grin on his face. 

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “What?” 

“Oh, nothing laddie. Nothing at all.” But Gobber wagged his eyebrows at Tony. Tony rolled his eyes back and stomped over to the forge to heat the blade. He didn’t want to deal with Gobber’s teasing now, when he just royally humiliated himself in front of the only attractive Viking on this island _and_ Stoick’s heir. But he had always been good at losing himself in work, and it took only minutes for Tony to forget about Astrid. He was vaguely aware of Gobber returning the axe when Astrid returned, and of the man’s mindless chatter. Tony answered it, without paying attention, and they soon found a rhythm that worked for them. It was nice. Normally, Tony was the one babbling but Gobber talked easily as much as he did. They could shoot insults at each other and work on separate projects with Gobber occasionally offering advice that Tony was careful to pay closer attention to. But he enjoyed it. It was a good day, and Tony left the forge feeling better than he had since arriving on Berk. Maybe he would be able to survive here until he built his radio and got home. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he had thought.

  
But of course, nothing good can ever happen to Tony without something to balance it out. So that night, the dragons came.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you guys think this will go for Tony? :D As always, please leave a comment letting me know what you think and what you anticipate will happen!  
> \- Dandy


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m upping the rating to mature because this chapter, and future ones, are pretty gory. I also added a warning for violence.  
> \- Dandy

Tony’s eyes flew open when chaos erupted. He could hear screams and roars, both dragonic and Viking. He needed no further explanation on what was happening. He scrambled out of bed, already yanking his boats on. He snatched up his journal and shoved it into his vest, and ran down the steps to find Stoick grabbing a war hammer from its place against the wall. He glanced up as Tony ran into the room and spoke before Tony could. 

“There’s a raid. The beasts are hungry tonight it seems. Go to the forge, help Gobber keep up with the weapon distribution and repair. Move fast, and _don’t_ try to fight!” 

Before Tony could reply, Stoick was out the door and charging off with a bellow to challenge the dragons in ferocity. Tony sucked in a breath, and debated if he should really risk going outside. But the debate only lasted a few seconds before the house shook with a blast to the roof, and Tony realized that staying inside was probably even more dangerous than going out. So he gathered his courage, told his knees to stop shaking, and ran out into the fire. Literally. Everything was on fire. Houses, stairs, ramps. _People._ A man was screaming not far off, his whole body alight with flames. His skin was peeling, blackening, and very little of him was visible. Except his face, which which horrifyingly clear. Tony stared into his eyes, frozen. The Viking’s eyes pleaded for help, but none was coming. None _could_ come. The battle was still raging, and even if everyone stopped fighting, Tony couldn’t imagine that even Americans’ medicine could save him. Then the man fell to the ground, still screaming, as the fire reached his face. Freed from his frozen state, he ran again, and didn’t let himself look at what was left of the Viking. But he heard the screams ominously cut off.  

Tony was running for the forge when he realized. The dragons, this was all just like the stories he had heard in America. They were fighting the humans, and the humans were fighting back, and it could go on forever if the humans didn’t just _stop_ killing dragons. And there was a pit filled with captive dragons right on this island. If Tony freed them, and stopped the raids, not only would he be safe from the fights, but the Vikings would be too. And once they _realized_ that, then they would _have_ to let him build his radio, maybe even bring him home. Once they saw that there would be no more Vikings like the one Tony had watched burn, they would have to be thankful.  

Of course, that meant Tony had to get to the dragon pit, get through the dragons that would be trying to free them, and open the cages without being eaten. But he didn’t see any other choice. If he didn’t he _would_ be killed in these raids. And eventually, so would the Vikings. And it might be his best chance at getting home, since his chances with the radio were so slim. He had to try. 

Tony changed direction, and ran towards the pit he remembered being on the outside of the village. Vikings shouted at him to get inside, to get out of the way, shouted he was going to get killed if he didn’t listen to them. He shouted that he would be right back, and dodged the hands that tried to grab him. But they didn’t try too hard, more concerned with the fight than with him, and Tony was well practiced in dodging the hands of angry adults. Tony’s heart was slamming in his chest, and he didn’t think he’d ever been so terrified, even when _The Seeker_ went down. All around him, people and dragons were dying. He watched as a man slammed his axe into the face of a purple dragon with spikes on it’s head and tail - what kind of dragon was it? A Nadder? Hobblegrunt? He wasn’t sure - and watched as the scales and skin peeled away to reveal white bone and red blood. The dragon gave a strangled scream and scrambled to get away, but the Viking roared and drove his axe into the injured dragon’s wing. There was too much noise for Tony to hear the bone crunch, but he saw it crumble at an impossible angle, and the axe tore straight through the wing’s thin membrane after cutting through the bone. The dragon screamed again, the sound wilder and more desperate than the last cry. It twisted, lashing its tail at the Viking. Much to Tony’s shock, the spikes on its tail came free and impaled the man’s chest. He choked, grabbed the spike, and _yanked_. It came free, and immediately the man coughed a fountain of blood, and crumbled to the ground. All of this happened in less than a minute, and Tony never stopped running. The fight left his sight just as he saw two more Vikings charging at the crippled dragon with battle cries on their lips. He was out of the main part of the village now, and almost to the curve that led to the Arena. He was confused about the lack of Vikings and dragons here. The dragons would be trying to free the captives, and the Vikings should be guarding them. Maybe they were all in the pit already? 

He sprinted around the curve, and pulled up short. It was empty. The cages were rattling as the dragons inside roared and fought their doors, but there wasn’t a single Viking or wild dragon. But wasn’t this why the dragons were here? In America, all it took was freeing the dragons to end the fighting. It had been obvious from the beginning why the dragons were there. But even though the caged dragons were fighting to free themselves, there were no wild dragons trying to save them. And no Vikings guarding them, which meant no one expected the dragons to free the captive ones. Tony swallowed hard, his shoulders slumping. If they weren’t here for the caged dragons, then why _were_ they here? Was Stoick right? How could the dragons on Berk be so _different_ from America’s dragons? But whatever the reason, Tony’s best chance at earning the Vikings’ respect and getting a ride home just went out the window. And now Tony had to try to get to the forge without getting burned alive. He couldn’t believe he had been so _stupid_. His entire plan had hinged on the behavior of wild animals, and now he had to make the terrifying race back.  

He considered just staying where he was, since he seemed to be out of the fighting. But even as the thought passed through his mind, three dragons flew overhead with a roar, heading towards the heart of the village. And Tony was alone here, without cover, and extremely vulnerable. He set off at a sprint for the village. He passed more fighting, but this time he tried to keep his eyes straight ahead and on his goal. But that is easier said than done, and at one point he was forced to duck under the arm of a Viking woman swinging a mace at a two headed dragon. Warm blood splattered his face, but he didn’t let himself think about it, or about the dragonic scream that followed the blood. But he felt the rush of air, and knew the wounded dragon had escaped. 

After what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, he skidded to a stop in the forge, gasping for breath. Gobber was at the window, handing out the weapons he and Tony had been making as quickly as he could. He glanced up when Tony entered, already complaining. 

“Well, about damn time ya showed up, boy! Thought you’d been eaten up!” 

Tony grabbed a sword from the pile of broken weapons, and got to work on repairing it. “Nah, just stopped for drive-through.” 

“Am I supposed to know what that means, lad?” Gobber shoved a weapon at an impatient Viking. The weapon had two balls like Gobber had been making when Tony first got the job as Gobber appearance, with a rope connection the them. The Viking didn't hesitate, and whipped around the hurl the thing at a fat, warty dragon that flew on incredibly small wings. The rope wrapped around the dragon, bring it down with a scream. The Vikings immediately descended on it. Tony averted his eyes. At least he knew what those metal balls were for now. 

He opened his mouth to reply to Gobber, but before he could, the sounds of the battle suddenly changed. The air filled with a strange, high-pitched whistling noise. Tony paused his work on the sword, confused. Then Vikings started shouting. 

“NIGHT FURY!” 

“GET DOWN!” 

Before Tony could work out what they were talking about, there was a whistle like the one still filling the air, but louder, overriding the last one. The sound only lasted a second before blue-purple light blinded Tony as the sound of metal screaming filled his mind. He scrambled back automatically, rubbing spots from his eyes. Then he rushed forward, desperate to see. A cadapult laid in pieces on ground. Tony looked up at Gobber, and found that the man had abandoned his work, and was replacing his prosthetic hand with an axe that screwed into place. 

“Where are you going? What was that?” Tony cried out, shocked by the unnatural event. 

“That, me boy, was a Night Fury! Which means this raid’s taken a turn for the worse, and they need _me_ out there!” 

Gobber turned towards the door, but Tony was still confused. “Wait! What are you talking about? Night Furys don’t _exist!_ They’re myths!” 

Gobber laughed. He was far too happy considering the situation, and Tony wondered if the man was completely sane. “Oh, they’re real lad! As evil as they come too. Man the fort, boy!”

Gobber charged outside with a roar, waving his axe in the air. Tony stared at him in shock, but a Viking in the window shouted impatiently, and Tony had to get back to work. The raid lasted another two hours, and the Night Fury struck twice more, Both times, the only warning was that strange, high-pitched whistle. It never attacked the Vikings, or stole food like the other dragons. Instead, it took down large weapons like the catapults, and even a watch tower. But eventually, the dragons all jerked their heads up, as if hearing something the humans didn’t, and rose into the air. A few dragons made frantic, last minute grabs for food, then followed the rest. The Vikings shouted taunts, and some threw their weapons after the retreating dragons. Tony sighed, knowing he and Gobber would have to replace those weapons. 

Soon, Gobber was back at the forge, telling Tony to get some sleep, and that the weapons could wait until the next day. But when Tony left the forge, he wished he had just stayed. Everything was still burning, although he could see Vikings, primarily the old, crippled, and even the teens, putting out the fires. He noticed that Astrid was working with a grim-faced determination, and that Snotlout and the twins we laughing and throwing more water on each other than on the fires. Fishlegs was working, but his hands shook so violently he dropped as much water as he threw. Tony avoided them. There were also dead dragons everywhere. Their eyes were clouding over, and blood pooled around them. There was a dead Viking not far from the forge, and Tony’s stomach rolled when he realised the burned body had to belong to the Viking he had seen that had been on fire. What a painful way to die. He swallowed hard, and wandered the village looking for Stoick. He passed more dead dragons, and several wounded ones that were on the ground, screaming. He avoid them, since they were still dangerous. But there were Vikings that were moving among the injured reptiles, putting them out of their misery. He eventually found Stoick near Gothi’s hut, overseeing the moving of the wounded. He didn’t say anything for once in his life, just stopped next to the Chief, unsure if he should be doing something. 

Stoick glanced down at Tony, and seemed to soften slightly. “You alright, lad?” He dropped a gentle hand to Tony’s shoulder. 

It took everything Tony had not to flinch at the touch. He was still on edge from the raid, and wanted nothing more than to wake up at home, under his covers, with Jarvis right down the hall. But he wasn’t dreaming and he knew it. 

So he nodded dully at Stoick. “Yeah, I’m fine. And you’re right, the dragons here aren’t anything like in America.” 

Stoick sighed, but apparently decided to avoid commenting and possibly starting a fight. “You look exhausted. And you have a full day tomorrow at the forge. The raid is done, the beasts won’t be back tonight. Go home, get some sleep.” 

That sounded wonderful to Tony. But Berk was still on fire, and he could see Vikings with injuries waiting for medical attention. “Are you sure? I could help put out fires, or pass out bandages, or something.” 

Stoick shook his head. “Nah, lad. We know how to handle the aftermath of a raid. We’ve been doin’ it for three hundred years. Go, get some rest. You’ve had a tough night.” 

Tony wasn’t going to argue. He nodded tiredly, and walked back towards Stoick’s house. He kept his eyes forward, wanting to avoid all the death. But then a voice shouted out at him. 

“Hey guys, look, it’s the hiccup! Looks like he didn’t get eaten by the dragons after all!” 

Tony glanced towards the voice, and mentally groaned when he saw the teens. Damnit, he couldn’t deal with them tonight. Snotlout swaggered towards Tony, grinning menacingly. The twins followed, and after a moment's hesitation, so did Fishlegs, although he didn’t look happy about it. Astrid just threw them all an annoyed look, and went to get more water. 

The male twin - Stoick said his name was Tuffnut - grinned and shoved into Tony’s space. “Yeah, because he hid the whole time! Stayed in the forge with Gobber!” 

Tony opened his mouth to protest, but Snotlout spoke first. “Is that true, little Hiccup? Hid from the big bad dragons in the forge, with Gobber protecting you? What a coward! This is why we shouldn’t have Southerners on Berk! They’re too soft!” 

Tony sneered at him. “I was working. I was making weapons, which requires actual _skill_ , for the Vikings to fight with. All you did was throw water, which a well-trained monkey could do.” 

Tony saw the punch coming, but Snotlout was _fast_ , and Tony couldn’t dodge it. It hit him over his left cheekbone, and sent him sprawling. Snotlout’s face had darkened with rage, and he advanced with his fists clenched on where Tony was sprawled in the dirt. Tony scrambled back instinctively.  

Fishlegs shifted his weight nervously, wringing his hands. “Um, guys -” 

Snotlout snarled before he could finish his sentence. “Shut up Fish-face, unless you want to join him!” 

Fishlegs closed his mouth and ducked his head, avoiding Tony’s eyes. Snotlout grabbed Tony’s shirt, and Tony heard the fabric rip. He automatically grabbed at his hand to try to pry away his fingers, but it was useless. The kid was a powerhouse. 

“Listen up Hiccup. You are _useless_ , understand? The only reason Gobber is smithing is because he’s missing two limbs and Stoick likes to try to keep him out of the fighting. But even with that, he’s still a good warrior. Like _me_. You, on the other hand, are there because there’s nothing else you’re good for. You’re a little runt, who should have been left to rot on the ocean.” 

Tony never was good at keeping his mouth shut when he should. “Well, Snotlout. I use a skill to help. You? Monkey.” 

Snotlout’s face twisted, and he raised the fist that wasn’t holding Tony’s shirt. Tony closed his eyes and turned his face in a useless attempt to protect himself. But instead of a punch, ice-cold water splashed over him. Tony blinked, and opened looked above himself in shock. Snotlout was equally drenched, and Astrid stood behind him with an empty bucket and a royally pissed-off expression. 

“Are you two nearly done? Because Berk is still on fire if you haven’t noticed, and the longer you spend fighting in the dirt the more people are going to lose their homes.” 

Snotlout, as seems to be the norm, immediately forgot all about Tony once Astrid spoke. “Of course Astrid! I’ve already put out so many fires, you know me, warrior that I am, but I’ll keep working! Don’t you worry babe, these fires are history!” 

He hopped off of Tony, already heading back towards the well with the other teens. Tony stood up with a pained grimace. Astrid seemed to dislike Tony as much as she disliked the other teens, but as long as she kept saving his hide, even accidently, he wouldn’t complain.

  
He made it the rest of the way to Stoick’s house without any issues, and closed the door behind him with a relieved sigh. His cheek throbbed, and Tony was tempted to grab a block of ice for it, but he wanted sleep more than relief from the punch. He stumbled up the stairs. Dawn was still several hours away, so hopefully Tony could get some sleep. He kicked off his boots, changed his ripped shirt for a fresh one, and collapsed into bed.  


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s been so long; I’m doing my finals for school and have been really pressed for time over the past couple of weeks. Hopefully after this week I will have more time and can crank out more chapters. I’m eager to get Toothless in here :) Random fact: I was researching Norse names, and it turns out Anthony actually IS a Viking name (just not in HTTYD’s world of unrealistic Vikings). Can you guess what it means? ‘Worthy of admiration or praise’.  
> -Dandy

Tony slept deeply, too exhausted by the night’s events for nightmares. So deeply in fact, he didn’t wake up when Stoick started banging around downstairs like he usually would. So when Tony became aware of a hand shaking his shoulder, he reacted as anyone would. 

He freaked the fuck out. 

He threw himself out of bed with a gasp, forgetting where he was, and found himself on his butt on a cold wood floor. Still not fully awake, he scrambled back, too shocked to make coherent sentences. Instead he stumbled out a series of stuttering, single vowel sounds as he craned his neck to see who was in front of him. 

“I - you - uh - what?” 

Stoick folded his massive arms and raised an eyebrow at Tony. 

“Time to wake up, lad. Gobber will need yer help at the forge today. I left some breakfast on the table for you. Make sure you eat it all, you have a full day ahead of you and need yer strength!” 

Before Tony could finish waking up enough to comprehend what Stoick had said, the man turned and walked back down the steps, ducking at the lowest point. Tony rubbed his eyes and scowled. He was still tired, but suspected he had gotten more sleep than a lot of Vikings did last night, so he wouldn’t complain. Besides, he had worked with less sleep plenty of times before, when he was at boarding school and Jarvis wasn’t there to make sure he got to bed at a reasonable hour. 

Tony stumbled to his feet and searched blindly for his boots. When his fingers found fur, he dragged the boots onto his frozen feet and rubbed his eyes. He yawned wide enough for his jaw to crack, and grabbed his journal. Then he stumbled down the steps to where, as promised, breakfast waited. The plate held eggs, crusty bread, and hard cheese. There was a cup of water next to the plate, and Tony sighed. He might miss coffee more than anything else from America, other than Internet. After eating, Tony left the house. The fires from the night before were gone, although there was still quite a bit of rubble. He could see Vikings still clearing it up. The Viking’s body he had seen the night before was gone as well, and the dragons’ corpses had been piled up on one of the cliffs overlooking the docks. There was still blood splattered on the ground. Tony shuddered and looked away. He walked quicker, and got to the forge in just a few minutes. There was already smoke pouring out of the roof, and Tony could hear Gobber banging away at the advil. Tony yanked the door open, and Gobber looked up and spoke without stopping his work. 

“Morning lad! Grab a hammer and a sword and get to work! We’re never busier than right after a raid!” 

Tony nodded and grabbed his smithing apron. After putting it on, he grabbed a bent sword and moved to the forge. Gobber had yet to allow Tony to make a weapon from scratch, but Tony could sharpen and repair blades without too much trouble. He shoved the sword into the coals and grabbed the bellows. He had to throw his entire weight onto the handles to work them. While he waited for the weapon to heat, he questioned Gobber about the night before. 

“So, was that, like, a usual fight? Last night?” Tony wasn’t sure why he felt the need to clarify what fight he was talking about. But when it came to violence, it’s probably a good habit to get into around here. 

Gobber nodded absently, his focus on the weapon he was pounding on with a hammer that was screwed into his interchangeable prosthetic hand. “Aye. It was a bad one though. Lost four good Vikings. Killed eleven of the beasties though.” 

Tony pulled the sword out of the coals when the metal was glowing, and moved to an anvil. “In America, dragons only used to attack if there were dragons that were captured and being held. But these ones didn’t care about the dragons in the cages.” 

“Nah, they ain't that smart lad. They don’t care ‘bout nothin’ but their next meal. They come here, grab all the food they can carry, and leave the dragons too hurt to fly without a second thought. They’ll even kill each other!” 

Tony frowned. “If it’s so dangerous, why do they come here at all? They should be able to catch enough food to feed themselves without trouble. I mean, there’s not many animals running around these little islands, but they should be able to catch fish at least. Why don’t they at least steal from villages less equipped to fight dragons?” 

“Again lad, they ain’t smart. And they have a nest near here, although we don’t know exactly where. Stoick goes out with a handful of ships every year to search. Never found it.” 

Tony nodded thoughtfully. It made sense that dragons would have a set territory. Like wolves. “What was that one dragon last night? The one that destroyed the catapult? It wasn’t actually a Night Fury, right? Those are just myths.” 

Gobber chuckled cheerfully. “They ain’t myths boy! Just rare. We have our local Night Fury, but we’ve never heard of any others. It doesn’t steal food, or directly attack people. It just takes down our defenses and lets the other dragons do the dirty work. It’s smarter than most, and more vicious.” 

Tony frowned at the sword he was hammering straight. He knew of Night Furies of course. Everyone did. There were storybooks of them, of princes that rescued beautiful princesses that were snatched up by the monstrous Night Fury. All books had a different idea of them, but they were always huge, ugly, with massive horns and teeth longer than most peoples’ arms. The only thing the stories were consistent on was the unique fire of the Night Fury, a fire that burned so hot it glowed blue-purple. That matched with what he had seen the night before, even if nothing else did. There was no way a dragon the size of the ones in the childrens’ books could move as silently as the one last night did. But how could it be real? There were people who believed of course, just like with every myth. Crazy fanics who staked a goat in the woods, and if it turned up dead or missing the next day, would swear that it was a Night Fury who killed it, not wolves or more common dragons. But it wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. It was like bigfoot, or mermaids. With the modern technology of America, if it was real, someone would have gotten a picture of it by now. But the fire last night… Tony couldn’t argue that. He didn’t know much about dragons, but if there was another dragon who had that strange purple fire, surely people would talk about it. 

“You beat on that blade anymore boy, and it’ll be closer to a shield than a sword!”

Tony paused, surprised, and realized he had been hammering long past the point where the sword was straight. Thankfully, he hadn’t done any damage. He sighed, and hauled the heavy weapon to the grindstone to sharpen it. Gobber raised his eyebrows - well, more like _eyebrow_ , since the two were so close together they were practically one - and studied Tony. 

“I take it there weren’t Night Furies in the South?” 

Tony shook his head without taking his eyes off the sword that was currently throwing sparks as the grindstone worked. “No. Like I said, they were myths. Like Slenderman, or trolls.” 

Gobber immediately whirled to face Tony, jabbing his hammer at him. “Trolls exist! They steal yer socks! But only the left ones! Ugh, what’s with that?” 

Tony had to stop his work to stare at Gobber. “You only have a right foot, Gobber. None of your socks would be ‘left socks’”. 

Gobber froze, shocked. “Huh. That … makes a surprisin’ amount of sense actually.” Gobber thought for a moment, then beamed. “That’s it! They’re takin’ my left socks, because they think I won’t use ‘em! Well, I’ll show ‘em! I’ll wear a sock over my peg everyday!” 

Tony snorted a laugh as he started up the grindstone again. “Maybe we should hunt those trolls down. You know, show them some righteous Viking fury!” 

Gobber grinned wide. “You included in that, lad? You a Viking?” 

Tony blinked, caught off guard. “No! Of course not, I’m way too handsome to be a Viking! I’ll just follow you around and make encouraging noises. Hand you weapons, distract the evil troll when you inevitably topple over from your pirate leg!” 

Tony held his breath after the comment, and glanced sideways at Gobber. The man hadn’t cared when Tony had made a joke about his leg last time, but Tony had to be sure before counting on that. 

Sure enough, Gobber just laughed and poked Tony’s shoulder with his hammer. “I’m still nimble and strong lad! Those trolls don’t stand a chance! Besides, worse come to worse, I don’t need to beat ‘em in a fight! I just have to run faster than you, and with yer short legs that won’t be hard!” 

Tony grinned, relieved. He was rapidly growing to like this Viking, carefree attitude. They seemed to be impossible to offend, as long as the topic wasn’t about protecting dragons and as long as Tony didn’t challenge any loyalties. He could have never had said something like he had just said in America without infuriating everyone involved.

He and Gobber continued like that until past lunch, alternating between shooting playful jabs at each other and Tony asking questions about the Vikings and the dragons. He learned that the painted shields he had seen in the Great Hall were actually pictures of past Chiefs and their heirs. Stoick and Astrid would be added in a couple of years, once Astrid was of age. He also found out more about the dragon species that were common in the area. The dragon that had the spiked tail he had seen the night before was indeed a Deadly Nadder, and Tony was pleased that he gotten that right. 

But after a few hours, Tony noticed the Vikings started moving away from the town. Tony looked up, confused, and realized Gobber was also putting away his tools and taking off his apron. 

“Gobber? What’s going on?” Tony asked, puzzled. The Vikings were calm, so there clearly wasn’t some kind of threat, but that didn’t explain what was happening. 

“Time for the funerals of the Vikings who died last night. Everyone who’s able attends, and that includes you lad. We can leave the forge on, just put yer tools away.” 

Tony set down the axe he had been sharpening and untied his apron. “Funerals? Do I need to wear anything specific, or do anything?” 

Gobber shook his head. “Nah, boy. The Chief will speak, and the families. Just watch, ya might learn something.” 

Tony frowned, not understanding what he stood to learn at a funeral. Tony never liked funerals, but he was curious. And it might give him more understanding of Viking behaviors that he hadn’t had the opportunity to see yet. So Tony hung up his apron, put his hammer back in the correct cupboard, and followed Gobber. They followed the other Vikings out of the village, past the docks. They walked for about twenty minutes before going down one of Berk’s many ramps. They ended up on a beach covered in fist sized stones that Tony had trouble avoiding tripping over. Surprisingly, Gobber had little trouble with them, even with his wooden foot. But if this was where they held their funerals, he probably had a lot of practice walking here. There were four small boats, with large, billowing sails and made of gleaming wood. On the boats there were logs stacked, and something covered by a fur on top of the wood. Tony squinted, and didn’t understand what those objects were until he spotted the Viking helmets balanced on top. Then his stomach rolled as he realized. 

They were the bodies.

Tony vaguely remembered that Vikings burned their dead, but he hadn’t known anything else. He still didn’t understand what they were going to do. Maybe Berk didn’t burn their bodies, maybe they just pushed them off and let them float out to sea? The thought had Tony’s chest feeling tight as he remembered the endless water and the horrible rocking of the waves. 

Stoick was standing at the shore, flanked by twelve Vikings of varying ages. It didn’t take a genius to know that they were the families of the dead Vikings. There was a fire burning by Stoick’s feet, and all the Vikings around him held a bow. Tony made a note of that, since he hadn’t seen any bows using during the raids and hadn’t had to make any in the forge. They must just be a thing for funerals, although Tony had no idea what they were used for. 

Tony leaned over to speak to Gobber, although he automatically lowered his voice for the funeral setting. “Its only been half a day since the sun came up; isn’t that early for funerals?”

Gobber gave Tony a surprised look, and didn’t lower his voice at all. Apparently that’s not a thing for Viking funerals. Tony would have to record that. “What’re ya on about, lad? The less time that passes, the better! If they don’t get a funeral swiftly, they won’t get recognized by the Gods, and will be left to wander the planet forever.” 

Tony blinked, and stored that information away for later. Guess the three-day rule Americans usually go by isn’t used here. Tony was kind of glad about that to be honest. He always found the idea of bodies just siding on a table for days to be disturbing. 

Before Tony could ask about the bows, Stoick and all of the Vikings holding bows next to him stepped forward to dip the tip of their arrows in the fire at Stoick’s feet, then step back to let someone else to light their arrow. Someone nudged Tony, and he looked up to see a Viking with a large, bushy beard holding a bow out to Tony. Tony just stared at him, surprised. 

The man apparently recognized Tony’s confusion, because he explained. “Family and friends of the fallen are the ones to send the arrows. Birger is the Viking who gave you the fish by the docks shortly after you came here. Most people just ignore him, but you were kind. You reminded him of his grandson, who died about five years ago. He had no family, and I am the only friend he had. But he would want you to do this.” 

Tony was still confused for a moment, but then he remembered. The blind old man by the docks who gave him the fish and called him Håkon. He was dead? Tony’s heart throbbed as he remembered the man’s grateful smile when all Tony had done was thank him for the fish. 

Tony swallowed and accepted the bow. “I don’t know how to shoot it,” he admitted. 

Normally, Tony felt like the Viking would probably taunt him for the admission, but this man just smiled at Tony and said, “That’s okay. It’s a childrens bow, so you shouldn’t have trouble drawing it. Just do what everyone else does.” 

Tony nodded and moved towards where the families stood by Stoick. A tall woman with a round, pregnant belly had tears openly running down her cheeks, but she didn’t look like most hysterical wives at funerals. Instead, despite the tears, she looked determinedly strong. She glanced down at Tony, and stepped aside so he could stand by Stoick. These Vikings apparently considered Tony to have a right to be at Stoick’s side, something Tony didn’t want to analyze too closely. Instead, Tony lit the tip of his arrow like the others had done, and glanced up to see Stoick giving him a soft, pleased smile. 

Then Stoick stepped forward, and all the Vikings on the beach fell silent. 

“Last night, four brave Vikings fell. Today, we honor them. Bjarke, Dagny, Eerika, and Birger, we speak the sacred words so you may find peace.” 

Stoick fell silent for a moment, and no one moved, no one breathed. Then Stoick began: 

“There do I see my father, my mother, my brothers and my sisters.

They bid me take my place among them in the halls of Valhalla…

Where the brave shall live forever.” 

Vikings drew back their arrows together, and Tony scrambled to do the same. Like the Viking had promised, he was able to draw the string back, although it was embarrassingly difficult. 

Stoick spoke softly to Tony. “Aim high lad, and more to the right.” 

Tony obeyed, and Stoick nodded. Then the Chief drew back his own drawstring, and released it. The arrow streaked through the sky, and slammed home in the first raft, and flames quickly spread. The rest of the Vikings released their own arrows, and Tony did the same, a beat behind. His arrow hit the edge of the ship rather than the deck, but it stuck and Tony would take it. 

Several of the Vikings stepped back, so Tony did as well, moving back towards Gobber, who clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to bruise and smiled at him. The Vikings who remained by Stoick began to speak, one by one. They told of accomplishments and feats performed by the fallen, and spoke the strength and courage they possessed. The Viking who had given Tony the bow spoke for Birger, and Tony was grateful he wouldn’t have to. Tony was surprised by the lack of shame the Vikings had over their feelings. Men and women alike cried openly, and did not duck their heads or wipe their tears. Tony found his own eyes welling up just from the pure _emotion_. It was so different from an American funeral, where everyone wore black, and quietly sniffled into tissues while staring at a body in a box and a stranger spoke about God. Even with the smell of burning hair and cooking flesh, it was much less disturbing than Tony usually found funerals. 

After the families finished speaking, Stoick announced a feast in the Great Hall, and the Vikings all perked up as one. Although tears continued to fall, smiles broke out as well. Everyone moved back towards and village, and Tony quickly grabbed Gobber’s arm. 

“A feast?” Tony asked, confused, 

Gobber smiled at him, cheerful as ever. “Yep! We mourned their deaths, now it’s time to celebrate their lives! Come on laddie!” 

Tony hesitated, and glanced back towards the ships. “Ah, you go on ahead Gobber. I’ll catch up.” 

“Sure lad! See you there!”

  
Tony waited as all the Vikings left, already telling stories of the dead. Then, when he was alone, he walked back to the edge of the water and stared at the flames flickering over the water. He thought of his father, of how he had smiled on one of the rare occasions Tony had been allowed in his shop and had successfully modified an engine. He thought of his mother, one of the hazy memories from before she had started drinking, when she had sang him to sleep with a song from Italy. And for the first time since _The Seeker_ went down, Tony let himself cry.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay first of all, I'M SORRY. Second of all, THANK YOU. Okay, backing up. I'm so sorry this took so long! I was so stuck on this, I erased the whole chapter twice to start over before settling on this third try. Second of all, we are almost at 200 kudos! My God! Also random fact time: I was researching what kind of fish live in the Arctic Ocean, and it turns out one of them is call 'Haddock'. I am learning about references I didn't know were references!  
> \- Dandy

Tony stayed on the Funeral Beach (as he had dubbed it) until the flaming ships had vanished beneath the waves. At some point, he had stopped crying, although he had no idea when. He felt better for it. Something about the Viking funerals had opened that bottle he had shoved all of his grief into, and Tony felt hollowed out, but in a good way. Like filling a cavity, he had to dig out the rotten part before he could begin filling hole inside him. Tony dug out his journal to add Funeral Beach to his map, and added the Viking funeral and their behaviors about it to the list he had going. He already had filled four pages with just observations about the Vikings, and Tony was feeling more confident about his ability to handle them. Once he had finished, he sighed and stowed his journal back in his vest and stretched. He started back up the path towards the village, debating if he should go to the Great Hall with the rest of the Vikings or just go back to the forge. But when he reached the village, he found himself drawn to the Great Hall like a moth to a flame. He would just peek, he decided. Just look in and then he would go to the forge, and look for any materials he could use for his radio. But when he opened the massive doors and stuck his head in, he didn’t have a chance to back out. A massive hand grabbed him by the back of his neck, and yanked him into the room. Tony gasped and stumbled in, trying to stay on his feet. Once he had regained his balance, he glared at the owner of the hand, who was revealed to be Gobber. The man had a mug screwed into his prosthetic hand, and judging by the dopey grin he wore, was already several mugs in.

“There ya are boy! I was wonderin’ when you’d show! Grab a mug and join the party!” 

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “A mug? I’m allowed to drink?” 

Gobber grinned wider and took a swig from his mug. Then, to Tony’s horror, his metal tooth fell out and toppled into the drink. Tony gaped at him, as Gobber squinted into his mug and started fishing around in it. 

“Eh, not what the adults drink. But we got some watered down ale for the teens. Besides, ya shot an arrow lad, ya deserve it! Where’d that damn tooth go?!” 

Tony stared at Gobber for another moment, then decided not to question it. Tony started towards the back of the Great Hall, where he knew the drinks and food were. Vikings were everywhere, and Tony was being shoved around as massive Vikings bumped into him, most already drunk and laughing. To Tony’s surprise, many stopped him to thank him for shooting for Birger. And by thank him, he meant they slapped him on the back hard enough to nearly knock him down, and drunkenly slur something appreciative before stumbling off for more alcohol. Tony muttered appropriate responses and slipped out of their grips. He eventually made his way to the tables loaded with food and barrels of ale. He grabbed one of the sour apples just for something to do with his hands and spun it idly as he watched the Vikings. 

The mood sure had changed. Gobber had said this was to celebrate the lives of the people who had died, and it sure felt like a celebration. Tony was shocked at the sight of a handful of Vikings with instruments in their hands, and plenty of people were laughing and singing and dancing. Tony wouldn’t have thought that Vikings would be interested in music and dance, but they just kept on surprising him. Of course, this was nothing like the concerts and dances Tony has been to. Tony would often be dragged out with his family to go to operas, or charity events where everyone dressed in clothing that cost more than most people would spend on a car and gave passive aggressive compliments to each other. But this was nothing like that. The Vikings wore dirty, torn clothing and armor. A lot of them had some kind of weapon strapped to their belt. There were more people drunk than not, and they all roared with laughter, pounding their friends on the back and their rivals in the face. Two Vikings were engaged in an arm wrestling competition at a nearby table. The Vikings who had instruments were not on a performing platform like Tony was used to, instead they were mixed with a partying Vikings. They laughed and danced even as they played on old-fashioned instruments like lutes and a recorder-like thing that looked like it was made from animal horns and bones. Vikings danced around them, but rather than an organized four-step routine, they jumped and spun everywhere, gripping each others’ forearms and lifting each other in the air. 

Having momentarily forgotten about the danger of eating a Viking apple, Tony took a bite out of the fruit in his hand. He grimaced once before forcing himself to maintain a straight face in case Gobber was lurking nearby, looking for more material to tease Tony over. But it wasn’t Gobber who was lurking. 

“That was good of you, to shoot for Birger.” 

Tony glanced up, startled at being spoken to by someone who wasn’t drunk. Astrid was standing next to him, a mug of thin brown liquid in her hand. He hadn’t noticed her. 

He shrugged, and not knowing how to respond to that, just asked “Did you know him?” 

She smiled. Like the rest of the Vikings, she seemed to be putting her annoyance with him aside for the day. “Everyone knew Birger. He’s been here forever. No one was really close to him, and a lot of people thought he was crazy, but he was one of us.” 

Tony blinked and swallowed, glancing away. He hadn’t been prepared for the simplicity yet the, the _meaning_ of her words. _He was one of us._ That simple. Tony looked around, and for the first time he noticed, really _noticed,_  the closeness of the Vikings. They were free in their touches, always slapping each other on the back or gripping forearms or slinging an arm over each others’ shoulders. 

And Tony found himself wanting. He didn’t even know what exactly it was he wanted, because he knew he wanted to go home, but at the same time, he wanted this. This trust, this bond, this community that protected and loved each other through dragon attacks and funerals and freezing winds. But he couldn’t have it. He was an American, a Southerner, an outsider. He didn’t belong here, and he still wanted to go home and go to college and go on with his life. But he realized for the first time he would miss Berk. And he would miss the opportunity he never had. The opportunity to belong. 

He was jerked out of his self-revelation when Astrid poked him. Now that he had noticed it, he was suddenly aware of how often they touched him. Maybe that was part of what had made trusting them so hard. Tony wasn’t used to being touched. 

Astrid raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you always ignore the people trying to have a conversation with you? Is that a Southerner thing?” 

Oh right, they were talking. Tony flushed lightly, an embarrassing act he hadn’t been able to outgrow yet. “No, no! S-sorry, I, I was just, thinking. This is all, just, a lot to take in, you know?” Tony gestured vaguely at the room and flushed brighter. God, one attractive Viking on the whole island and Tony’s brain just seemed to melt out his ears any time she so much as glanced at him. If he wasn’t careful, he would start jabbering at her as stupidly as Snotlout did. 

She tilted her head and studied him with sharp eyes. “Yeah, I guess it would be. So, are Southern funerals different then?” 

Tony snorted. “Oh yeah. We wait a few days before having a funeral, and during those days we pump the body with as many chemicals as we can to try and keep it from decomposing for as long as possible. Then we put it in a box, everyone shows up and cries over it, buries it, and everyone speaks quietly and pretends to be sad for the family until they can go home again. Honesty, I like this way more.” 

Astrid shuddered and grimaced. Tony probably shouldn’t have worded it quite like that, but Astrid seemed tough enough to handle it. After all, she’s a Viking Chieftess-to-be. 

She shook her head. “That’s considered respectful to the dead? It sounds horrible.” 

Tony shrugged. “Well, if they want anything specifically done, their family will handle it. But yeah, no, Americans believe funerals are more to give closure to the families than for the dead.” 

Astrid frowned. “You know, I really don’t understand the things Southerners do. Everything just seems…” 

“Selfish?” Tony offered in a flat voice. Now that he had noticed the difference between the Vikings and Americans, it was all he could focus on. 

Astrid shrugged. “You said it, not me.” 

They stood in silence for a moment, both watching the Vikings. Two Vikings who had been shoving back and forth for a few minutes broke into a fist fight. The Vikings surrounding them either moved away to continue drinking and dancing, or circled up to cheer them on. 

Astrid nudged him again, and offered the mug she had been holding, but not drinking. “You want a drink? It's watered down ale. We aren’t allowed to have it very often, but we can have some on special occasions.” 

Tony blinked at the mug, then at Astrid, before mumbling “Oh, sure. Thanks,” and taking the mug. It wasn’t his first drink of course. His first drink had been when he was nine, and found his father’s scotch bottle left on the coffee table. He drank a good amount of it, despite the taste, because he had held the childish belief that if he drank the drink his father liked so much, maybe they would get along better. Jarvis had found him and gave one of his disappointed sighs Tony hated so much before carrying him to bed. Later that night, Tony heard Howard shouting and throwing things around his office, and Jarvis’s calm but firm voice. Alcohol hadn’t been left out again. Still, it was easy it get his hands on if he wanted a drink. Tony took a sip of the ale, and immediately wrinkled his nose. They weren’t kidding when they said it was watered down, but the flavor was the worst he had ever tasted. It just tasted like watery, rotten fruit with a faint bite of alcohol. 

Astrid laughed at him. “What, our drinks aren’t as good as our funerals?” 

“You can say that again,” he muttered before taking another sip. He’d be damned if he let Gobber catch him turning his nose up at another Viking consumable. It was bad enough Astrid saw it.   

They were quiet for a moment. Then Astrid spoke up again. “So, other than the funerals, what’s the rest of the South like?” 

Tony hesitated, staring at his mug. He had anticipated the question, but he wasn’t sure how to answer. When he had first arrived on Berk, he would have been eager to brag about how much more advanced America is, and prove to them how low Berk’s standard of living is compared to America’s. But now, he almost felt embarrassed to talk about it. 

Finally, he said, “It’s, uh, bigger. A lot. If you took all of Berk’s Vikings, they would equal about as many people in one of New York’s apartment buildings. And that’s just one building, on one street, in one city, in one state, in one country. The buildings are taller than Berk’s tallest cliff. We have really advanced technology, and that’s actually what I did. I invented things, robotics and computer systems. I was supposed to go to college this fall, at one of the best schools in the country, and learn more so I can start building weapons and preparing to take over Stark Industries, which is my father’s company.” 

Astrid tipped her head. “Do you miss it?” 

“Of course,” Tony answered quickly. “I mean, I definitely miss inventing. Technology has always been my thing, and it sucks not having it. But at least there’s a lot to keep me occupied. And I miss coffee.” 

Astrid smirked at him, and thankfully didn’t comment on Tony’s obvious avoidance of what she was really asking. “Oh no, what will you ever do without your Southern luxury?” 

Tony grinned back, pleased to be having a civil discussion with a Viking teen. Especially _this_ teen. But like all good things, it had to come to an end. Astrid’s eyes slid over Tony’s shoulder, and her smile wavered before fixing back into place. 

“Well, nice shooting today Hiccup. See you later!” 

Tony scowled. “That’s not my name, my name’s Tony.” 

But Astrid was already vanishing into the crowd. Tony turned to glance over to where Astrid had looked, and saw Snotlout and the twins watching him. The twins had matching menacing grins, and Snotlout was scowling. Great, now he’d have to deal with that. But at least he seemed to have a reprieve for the day, because people seemed to want to be nice to him today since he fired an arrow at the funerals. Tony sighed, and took another sip of his drink with a suppressed shudder. 

The rest of the party passed quickly. Tony hung near the back of the room and watched, but he was surprised to find that he still enjoyed himself. The Vikings were interesting to watch, and their excitement and joy was rubbing off on him and he found himself smiling and laughing along with them. But it did have to come to an end, and after the party had been going for around three hours after Tony had arrived, Stoick announced it was time to get back to work. Good-natured groans followed, and sober Vikings grabbed buckets filled with icy water to toss over the heads of drunk Vikings. This caused more fights to break out, but it seemed to be expected. Tony ducked around Vikings swinging wildly at each other, and walked outside. It was still light out, although the sun was starting to go down. The sky had dimmed, turned a soft pink with the sun as a glowing orange ball. Tony remembered that Gobber had left the forge on, which meant they weren’t done working, so he headed in that direction. 

It had certainly been an interesting day. Tony had had such a rollercoaster of emotions, all day. From witnessing the aftermath of the dragon raid, to the Viking funerals and remembering his parents, to the excitement of the feast. But it wasn’t over yet, so Tony went into forge and found Gobber tying his smithing apron around his waist. 

“Hey lad! Glad ya got back so quick. We still got a lot of work to get done!” 

Tony wasn’t as engaged in the chatter with Gobber as he had been that morning. He had a lot to think about, and Gobber seemed to know that so he chattered away without needing input from Tony. Gobber’s chatter had bothered Tony at first, but now it was oddly soothing. He didn’t have to deal with silences that made him anxious, and he could choose to either engage in the banter or just let Gobber chatter away. He focused harder on his work. His smithing was improving, and he figured he would ask Gobber about making a weapon from scratch the next day. He threw himself into the work, so that he was quickly soaked in sweat and covered in soot, and his muscles burned and trembled from the strain. They got all the way through the pile of damaged weapons, although more still needed to be made. The village was quiet and empty by the time Gobber called their work to a halt, and the moon was high. Tony helped Gobber through closing up the forge, then went home. Well, Stoick’s house. Was that home? When Stoick wanted Tony to go there, he told Tony to go ‘home’. But he might just be giving Tony instructions based on what Stoick considered the title of the place to be. Tony decided he was too tired to worry about it tonight. He still had to record what he had observed during the feast and work on his reading. He had been slacking too much on that as it was.

  
When he entered the house, Stoick was nowhere to be seen, although he could hear his thunderous snores coming from his room. The fire crackled away, and there were still candles lit in the kitchen and on the table for him. He tossed a couple more logs on the fire, then went to the table. Stoick had left him a plate with a roasted Atlantic Cod on it. It was his favorite, the fish he always grabbed when eating at the Great Hall. He hadn’t said anything about it. He glanced toward the Chief’s room. Guess this was Stoick’s way of saying ‘good job today’. He ate the fish, washed his plate and cleaned himself up the best he could before putting out the candles. Then he went up to his room and began the fight with the stupid flint rocks. He could light the candle in the fire, but it was a matter of pride at this point. He hadn’t gotten around to making himself matches, but he was a genius and could work some damn rocks. He was getting better at it. He managed to light the candle in under ten minutes. A new record. He pulled out his journal and recorded everything he had noticed during the feast, from the style of music, to the dancing, to the instruments, to the fights. Then he pulled out the herbalist book Gothi had given him, and got to work. He put in a good hour of work there, and would have worked more but he knew he would have another long day at the forge tomorrow and would need some sleep. His reading was improving. He could pick out more words than not, although he still couldn’t manage many whole sentences. But he was getting there. His smithing, his flint work, his reading, it was all improving. And he got through the day without a single fight or serious argument. He was doing it, he was living with Vikings and _thriving._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for how late the last chapter was, you get this chapter right away!  
> \- Dandy

Despite how exhausted Tony was, he had trouble sleeping. Nightmares lurked, but his mind was too muddled to let them through. So instead, he found himself jerking awake every time he found himself getting close to actual sleep. He ended up slipping out of bed even before Stoick was awake and dressing, shivering in the cold. He went downstairs and found the fire was still alive, although it was down to coals. He must have headed to bed not long ago. Not that he got any sleep. He carefully placed a few dried twigs onto the coals and blew on them until the twigs lit, like he had seen both Gobber and Stoick do on several occasions. Then he added more twigs onto the tiny flame.   

Which promptly went out. Damn it. 

Tony sighed, and started over. How does anyone start a fire from scratch around here? He was struggling and he had the coals to start with. By the time he had the fire back up to roaring, the sun was beginning to peek out and he knew Stoick would be getting up soon. He grabbed himself a piece of crusty bread and a chunk of hard cheese from the cellar and slapped them together to eat on his way to the forge. Outside, Tony took his time since he knew he would be getting to the forge before Gobber. Stoick wasn’t kidding when he said Vikings knew how to handle the aftermath of a raid. They seemed to have it down to a science. Houses that were damaged were already done being patched, and the rubble of destroyed homes were cleared out and in their places there were foundations of new houses. He could see lights coming on in windows as Vikings started morning fires to get ready for the day, earlier than they usually would. Tony arrived at the forge, and as expected, it was empty. And unlocked, since Vikings rarely seem to lock anything. Tony let himself in and decided to take the opportunity to look around for any materials he could use for his radio. He had been putting this task off with the excuse that he didn’t want to be caught snooping around, but he knew Gobber would hardly care as long as he didn’t break anything. In truth, he knew he wouldn’t find anything and he didn’t want to face that reality. Vikings were simple people. They built with wood, and they fought with iron. They had no need for rubber or copper or any of the other materials Tony would need just for the wiring and circuitry, let alone any electrical components. Still, he had to look. So look he did. He searched through the entire pile of scrap metal and damaged weapons, but didn’t find anything there. He looked through the cabinets of tools, and checked all of the tool boards and shelves. Nothing. He checked all of the work tables, and found nothing but tools, weapons, and a rotten fish. Gross, Gobber. At least that explained the smell the forge had been holding. The fish must have been there for weeks, if not months, since there was frost on the grass now so it was too cold for food to rot like this. Tony used a pair of forceps to carry the fish outside and toss it off one of Berk’s many cliffs and into the ocean. The sun was well on its way to being up by the time Tony returned, and he knew that Gobber would be there soon. He was probably just eating breakfast at the Great Hall now. So Tony checked the last space, which was the room that was always shut. 

Tony had irrationally hoped that the room would be filled with things he could use. Rubber and copper and aluminum, maybe even some Southern tools he could could. After all, it had been shut since the first day Tony arrived and he had never seen it opened. But further exploration crushed that hope. Tony sighed. As was often the case, Occam’s Razor* proved to be accurate. The room was pretty empty, with just some miscellaneous tools and scrap metal lying around. He could see why it wasn’t often used. The room was tiny, and the ceiling was high enough that Tony could stand upright, but no way a Viking could comfortably fit. Tony poked through the few things in the room before he was forced to face the truth. There were no useful materials for his radio in the forge. And if it wasn’t in the forge, it wasn’t on Berk. Tony just sat down on the dusty floor in the tiny room and buried his head in his hands. Tears pricked his eyes, and his chest felt tight. Tony sniffled, but forced the tears back. He was overreacting. He had already pretty much known that his radio was a pipe dream. Even if he had the basic materials, how was he supposed to craft circuitry without his precision tools? Even if by some miracle he managed to get past that problem, he had no way to power it. He had no way of connecting to satellite signals, no way to even find find them. He was stuck. His only chance of reaching out to any of the Southern nations was by sending a letter with traders who would never go near Amercia, and cross his fingers that maybe they would bump into someone who was. But he knew how very, very low that chance was. Tony took his face out of his hands so he could bury it in his knees instead. He didn’t know how long he stayed there. Everything kind of faded as he struggled to accept the fact that he would almost certainly be stuck on Berk for the rest of his life. But at some point he heard the door he had left open creak as it was opened further, and Gobber’s sigh. 

“What’re ya doin’, lad?” 

Tony lifted his head, although he didn’t look up. “I thought that maybe, I could build something to contact America. A radio. I thought I could find the materials for it here in the forge. But there’s nothing.” Let Gobber tattle to Stoick if he wants. What could he do? Tony was stuck on a Viking island, alone, with no way home. He didn’t care what Stoick did at this point. 

Gobber shifted his weight of his bad foot. “I coulda told ya that, boy. We’re Vikings. We don’t have yer Southern tools.” 

Tony scowled at the floor. “I had to check. I couldn’t just _quit_. So now, I’m trapped. Yeah, I can send a letter with any traders that come through Berk. And I will. But we both know that wouldn’t amount to anything.” 

Tony still didn’t look at Gobber, but he knew the Viking was rolling his eyes. “Ya act like we’re the worst fate ya could imagine! Come on lad, I know there are things here ya like. Ya like the smithing, yer interested in the dragons, yer even learnin’ to read the runes!”

Tony was quiet for a moment, and when he responded, his voice was softer. “Yeah, there are good things here. It’s interesting to see, and I would love to _visit_ Berk. But I have responsibilities, Gobber. I was supposed to go to college, to MIT. I was supposed to learn about weapon design - _real_ weapons, like bombs and guns, not swords and maces - and prepare to take over my father’s company. Stark Industries is the leader in military weaponry and without new weapons our soldiers will be vulnerable. And Jarvis is going to think I’m dead. His wife died before I was born, and he doesn’t have any other family. He’s alone now.” 

Gobber gave a gusty sigh. “Lad, yer still a kid. Ya don’t haveta do anything now. They wouldn’t expect ya to take over a job like that at yer age, right? Ya said you were just learnin’. And with a place as big as yer Southern country, they musta had other people to make weapons. The South ain’t Berk, they’ll need more than one shop to make weapons! And yer friend Jarvis will be alright lad. He’ll mourn ya, but he sounds like someone who has survived loss before.”    

Tony didn’t say anything to that. Gobber didn’t understand. He was a Viking. He couldn’t even imagine the responsibility Tony had carried on his shoulders his entire life. But maybe Tony should try to let it go. America would survive without him. He knew that. The country's survival was hardly dependent on Stark weapons. And they had the weapons Howard had designed before all this. And Jarvis … well, Tony preferred not to dwell. But Gobber was right. Jarvis was a survivor, and losing Tony would hardly be the thing that destroyed him. But that didn’t make the fact that he was stranded on Berk much easier to bear.  

Gobber shifted his weight again and and thumped his peg leg on the ground. “Now, come on lad. We still got a lotta work to get done today.”

Tony nodded. Gobber was right. They did have a lot of work. And in a small village like Berk, every person matters. They needed him. They might call him skinny and useless, but they needed his mind and Tony could still make a difference. So he pushed himself to his feet and brushed the dust off his butt before following Gobber out of the little room. 

“So lad, if yer gonna be stayin’ you’ll need a work space. That room isn’t being used, as you can see. Maybe we can drag a desk in there, and give ya some space to work on yer own projects.”

Tony perked up a bit at that. His own space, away from Stoick’s house? Sounded good to him. Gobber had also said ‘his own projects’, so did that mean Tony would be allowed to make whatever he wanted without having to steal materials? 

So he nodded quickly. “Yeah, sounds good. I mean, it’s better than letting that room sit empty, right? And speaking of my own projects, I wanted to try making a weapon today.”

Gobber gave a cheery nod and moved off towards the forge. “Sure, laddie. We’ll get ya goin’ on somethin’ this morning. But first, ya’ve gotta learn how to set up the forge in the morning, so if ya get here before me like today, you don’t gotta wait for me.”

And that was that. Their conversation in the little room that would become Tony’s was put behind them, and Gobber walked Tony through lighting the forge and setting up the shop for the morning. Tony threw himself into the smithing even more thoroughly than he did the night before in an attempt to forget what he had been forced to accept. Gobber seemed to approve wholeheartedly, and joined in helping Tony forget about it by teasing him mercilessly about his poor shot with the bow yesterday, which led to Tony swearing to get his hands on a bow and practice until Gobber had to eat his words. Of course, then Gobber moved on to the topic of Astrid’s talking to him at the feast because _of course_ Gobber saw that; his Tony-is-embarrassing-himself senses were at optimal performance so naturally he had to be lurking nearby during Tony’s conversation with her.

After they had been working for about an hour, Gobber tossed Tony a block of iron and pointed him towards the leather and told him to smith a knife, one good for everyday use. Tony grinned and got to work. It took him the rest of the morning. He had figured that moving from repairing weapons to actually building them would be an easy transition, but much like when he had attempted to repair his first sword, he was surprised by how much harder it was than he expected. Gobber watched Tony work and offered advice, but eventually Tony ended up with a knife that had a blade about six inches long, that was damn near perfectly balanced, although he once again ended up making the metal too brittle from dosing it too many times. He really needed to find his patience and just let the damn metal cool naturally more often. Still, it was a good knife and Tony was pleased, and Gobber gave an approving nod as well.

But when Tony went to add it to wall Gobber had been hanging their completed work on, the man stopped him. “What do ya think yer doin’, laddie?”

Tony paused, raising his eyebrows. “Uh, putting the knife with the other weapons?”

Gobber tisked disapprovingly, shaking his head. “Nay lad. It’s yer first weapon! You should always keep yer first crafted blade!”

Tony blinked at Gobber, then at the knife, and grinned. “You trusting me with a knife Gobber?”

Gobber snorted. “I wouldn’t trust ya with a single hair on my head boy - ” 

Tony gave Gobber’s shiny, bald head an unimpressed look. 

“ - but every Vikin’ needs a weapon, and if yer gonna be one of us, I’d rather give ya a knife than an axe!” 

Now it was Tony’s turn to snort. “I might be stranded here Gobber. But I’m hardly a Viking.”

Gobber waggled his eyebrow. “Maybe not yet lad, but you’ll get there. Besides, there’s a certain lady Viking I know ya got yer eye on …” 

“Oh God, here we go again. Gobber I _told_ you, it’s not like that …”  

The rest of the morning passed easily. Tony slipped his new knife into his belt, carefully angling it so it wouldn’t cut his leg while he worked. Now that he had successfully made a weapon without burning the shop down, Gobber let him try his hand with some larger weapons. Under Gobber’s guidance, Tony successfully created a sword and was working on a warhammer when the Viking called a break for lunch. Tony was reluctant - he was _finally_ getting the hang of how to balance a weapon as awkward as a hammer and didn’t want to quit - but Gobber was adamant. So Tony reluctantly set his work aside and hung up his apron before following Gobber to the Great Hall. He grabbed some food and sat with Gobber to eat. They chatted and bantered as easily as they did in the forge. But Tony could see the rest of the teens sitting across the Great Hall. As per usual, Snotlout and the twins were sneering at him and snickering among themselves, Fishlegs was nervously flicking his eyes between them as he ate, and Astrid was determinedly ignoring them and focusing on her meal, her axe ever present at her side. Snotlout caught Tony watching them, and gave a wide, threatening grin. Tony sighed and flicked his gaze back to his plate. Now that he knew he was truly stuck on Berk, the idea of being so thoroughly rejected by the only peers he had on the island was pretty disheartening. Tony wished he had tried to be a little more friendly when he had first met them. Of course, Tony doubted he could ever control his mouth enough to be friends with Snotlout or the twins, but he could see himself getting along with Fishlegs and Astrid. But nope, the teens seemed to be firmly set as a group, and Tony was the reject set off to the side.  

After lunch, Tony cleared out the spare room of all the random junk that had been occupying it. He unearthed an ancient broom with a broken handle and got to work on making the little space liveable. There was an ungodly amount of dirt and dead roaches, which made Tony incredibly thankful that it was close enough to winter that he only had to deal with the dead bugs, and not the living ones. After clearing away the dirt and cobwebs, he soaked a cloth in the water barrel and wiped down the walls. Despite how small the room was, a good two hours must have passed before he deemed it good enough. He cleared off one of the smaller workbenches in the shop, and had Gobber help him drag it into the room. Well, got Gobber to move it while Tony tugged ineffectively at it and pretended he was helping. Then they repeated the process with a tool shelf, which they placed perpendicular to the workbench-turned-desk. Then Tony tracked down a chair for the desk, dug out a couple of candles to put on the desk, and some pencil-sticks. Once he had finished, he observed the room, thinking. It was hardly up to the standard he was used to. In America, he had the best labs money could buy. He had massive rooms, gleaming with cleanliness and style. He had had everything he could have ever wanted in those labs. This room was tiny, so small Gobber had to duck under the door and stand hunched over to accommodate the low ceiling. It was just long enough for a desk and not much wider. It had been filthy, and if someone had told him a month ago that Tony Stark would be sweeping dead cockroaches out of a room smaller than his closet had been, Tony would have laughed in their faces. But it was _his_ , his in a way the labs hadn’t been. He _worked_ for this, cleaned it and organized it and made it his. It was his space in a way that even his room in Stoick’s house wasn’t. The wood along the walls were chipped, the ceiling was so low that if Tony wasn’t so small it would be a problem. But he loved it, loved it more than any of his luxurious labs and fancy living quarters.   

  
So yeah, Tony may be trapped on a Viking island, his family gone, the only Viking who seemed to like him was his boss that had a couple screws loose, and no way to get back to America. The only people on this island that were his age were more interested in finding entertainment in his misery than having an actual conversation with him. But he had a space to work, and he was already picturing the things he could improve, even without electricity. He was supposed to be weapons manufacturer in America, but there was no reason he couldn’t do that for Berk. Sure, it wouldn’t be bombs, but he could improve what they had to be better than just axes and swords, even without the materials he was used to. He had a purpose, and that was all Tony Stark had ever really needed.           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Occam’s Razor - The simplest explanation is the most likely


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a few things I wanted to update you guys on. I have been going back and forth for awhile on how many movies I wanted to take this story through, but I’ve decided to take it all the way through Civil War. Some movies might be kind of skimmed over, with only enough being written to show how it would happen with a dragon in the mix. The only movie I’m going to completely skip will be Iron Man 3, because frankly I just didn’t like that movie and am happier pretending that it doesn’t exist. So I will not write that movie, and none of the events from that movie will happen in this story. So the order will be HTTYD, Riders of Berk, Defenders of Berk, (Gift of the Night Fury, Dawn of the Dragon Racers, and Legend of the Boneknapper will be mixed in as well, although some of those will probably only be referenced), Iron Man, Iron Man 2, Avengers, Age of Ultron, Civil War, HTTYD 2. As a second thing, there was one aspect of the story I kept going back and forth on, and I had actually made a decision on it, but then I thought it would be cooler if I let YOU decide. So, you can vote here [ https://goo.gl/u6viN2 ] 
> 
> Please let me know if you guys have any questions or concerns!  
> \- Dandy

After he got his new workroom set up, Tony’s exhaustion from the night before finally hit him. He suddenly could barely stay on his feet, and Gobber eyed him. 

“You alright, lad?” 

Tony nodded and smothered a yawn. “Yep, just tired. Haven’t been sleeping well.” 

Gobber nodded, cheerful as ever. “We’ve gotten a lot done, more than I’d normally have at this point on my own. I’ll finish up today, you can go and get some sleep.”

Tony shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I’ve gone longer without sleep with no trouble, I’m not sure why it’s hitting me so hard now.” 

Gobber shrugged his shoulders without moving his hands from where he was bending a piece of metal with forceps. “Yer working hard, lad. Smithin’ is tough work, and yer not exactly built for it.” 

Tony scowled, but didn’t have a response to that. He _wasn’t_ built for it after all, but that didn’t mean he liked being reminded of it. But he had his new workroom set up, and he was itching to sit down and plan some projects. But he was either going to push through the exhaustion and work in the forge with Gobber, or take a nap. He wasn’t going to get to work on any of his projects until they replenished Berk’s stock of weapons anyway. 

He sighed. “Okay, I’ll take a nap and work late tonight to make up for it.” 

Gobber shook his head. “Nah, ya don’t wanna screw yer sleeping times up. I’ll wake ya up for dinner, and we can get a little more work done before the sun goes down. Get some sleep, yer useless if ya can’t focus.” 

Tony’s jaw flexed at that, ugly memories of his father’s vicious words playing through his mind. But Gobber wasn’t his father, and Tony knew he didn’t mean it like that. Gobber was brutally honest and wasn’t concerned with what people thought. But he wasn’t cruel. And he was right. Tony _wouldn’t_ be helpful if he couldn’t focus. He was still learning how to blacksmith, and he wasn’t good enough yet to work without having his full attention on his project.  

So he nodded, tightly. “Fine. But wake me before too long; I can still get some work done tonight.” Gobber nodded absently, and Tony hung up his apron and left. Outside, the clear skies had taken a change for the worse. The sky had darkened so much it almost looked like it was dusk. Tony almost wondered if it _was_ getting dark, if he had lost track of time that much. After all, Vikings don’t have clocks. But no, Tony might have trouble telling time by the sun, but Gobber would have known if it was getting late. So it was going to rain, maybe storm. Tony sighed, but picked up his pace. Once getting to the house, Tony built up the fire again and closed up the windows. And by closing the windows, he meant he pulled the wooden flaps shut over the holes in the walls and latched them. Once that was done, the house was as dark as night. Tony walked up the stairs to his room using the light of the fire, kicked his boots off, and gratefully threw himself onto his bed. Only to be reminded why that was a bad idea when his face slammed painfully onto the wood panels of the mattress-less bed. He groaned and shifted to rub his nose for a moment before rolling beneath his fur and closing his eyes. Unlike the night before, Tony slept deeply and dreamlessly.   

He was jerked out of his peaceful sleep by a loud bang that startled him so badly he tumbled out of bed and slammed his still sore nose into the floor. He laid there, processing, before stumbling to his feet. He looked around in confusion, and was beginning to wonder if he had just imagined the sound when another loud, ear-splitting boom shook the house. Then he rolled his eyes. A little thunder and Tony was jumping out of his skin. He went down the steps and found the fire was still going although the flames were low. No more than an hour or two could have passed since he built up the fire. He added a few more logs to keep it going until that night, then opened the front door. 

The front door was heavy, a thick, hearty wood that was meant to withstand dragon fire. But the wind damn near ripped it out of his hands. Tony cursed, but grinned as he slipped outside and fought the door shut. Tony _loved_ storms. He loved the power, and the thrill in his blood caused by the thunder, the flashing lightning, the pounding rain. Tony bolted outside, slipping on the wet ground, rushing to get to the forge before he got completely drenched. Thunder cracked again, like a whip, lightning flashing at the same time. It was _close_. Tony yanked the door to the forge open and slipped inside. Gobber was heating some iron, and he raised an eyebrow at the stupid grin Tony wore. 

“Yer up earlier than I’d athought, lad. Storm wake ya?” 

Tony bobbed his head cheerfully and grabbed his apron. “Yep. It’s _awesome_! I’ve never seen a storm like this!” 

Gobber nodded, wearing his ever-present grin. “Yep, our storms are nothin’ to sneeze at. We get the extremes of everything up here.”

Tony nodded happily. “It’s because of the changing weather. The hot air is clashing with the cold air and -” 

“Oh no lad, don’t you start givin’ me that Southerner-crap! We’re Vikings’ we don’t need yer -” 

“Yeah yeah Gobber, I get it, but I’m just _saying_ …” 

And so they continued working, their mutual teasing picking right back up. Thunder cracked, lightning flashed, the wind howled, and Tony and Gobber worked relentlessly right through dinner. Gobber didn’t want to get rained on - he seemed to have something against getting wet, as it led to being clean - and Tony was more interested in trying to repair a mace he made  a mistake on than eating. By the time they finished, the village was quiet, the cold preventing even the chirping of crickets. This time, Tony closed up the forge alone as Gobber looked on. 

Gobber nodded in approval. “Looks like you’ve got an understandin’ of how to handle the forge. We’ve replenished Berk’s weapon supplies, faster than ever before. So tomorrow, there’s no need for us to both be workin’ at the same time. So I’ll work until lunch so you can sleep in, then you can work for the evenin’. 

Gobber walked out without giving Tony a chance to reply. Tony rolled his eyes, but was secretly pleased. He would have to morning to do as he pleased, would get some work done that afternoon, and would have the night to spend some time with his new workroom. Outside, the rain had softened to a sprinkle and the thunder had passed. Tony went back to Stoick’s house (was it his house now too?), and found Stoick nursing a mug of ale by the fire. Tony grabbed some salted fish and bread from the kitchen and walked to the steps leading to his room, mumbling a greeting to the Chief that had crumbs spraying from his mouth. 

But Stoick called back to Tony before he could go up more than a step. “Wait lad. Trader Johann is due tomorrow. So you’ll wanna get yer letters organized.” 

Tony paused, startled. “Okay, I can write them tonight. But do I need to do anything, give him anything? How does that work?” 

Stoick shook his head. “Typically, we trade for anything we want from him. But you haven’t been on Berk long enough to have anything to trade with, so I’ll speak with him. He’ll take yer letters, and give you whatever ya want from his trading supplies.” 

Tony tensed a little, and eyed Stoick with more suspicion than he had felt in … well, a while. “Okay, you know how small of a chance it is that I’ll be able to contact anyone from the continents, right? I assume you’ve known that from the start.” 

Stoick frowned, looking confused. “Yes, but it’s still a _chance_. You should still take it.” 

Tony shook his head. “I know, that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m _saying_ , is that I have less than 10% of a chance of ever going back South at this point. So I’ll most likely never inherit my family's fortune, so I’ll probably never be able to pay you back.” 

Stoick snorted. “That’s what yer worryin’ about? Ya don’t need to pay me back, lad. Yer overestimatin’ how much the junk Johann trades is worth. He just peddles things from different areas around the Barbaric Archipelago. It doesn’t take much to make a trade. Don’t worry so much, lad. Just go write yer letters, I’ll handle Trader Johann.” 

Tony hesitated. He didn’t like it, didn’t like having to accept charity. But Stoick was right, Tony had nothing to trade with. All he had to his name was his clothes, the books Gothi had given him, and the knife he made. The only thing there he could trade would be his knife, and he doubted it was worth much. Plus, he was pretty attached to it. So he just nodded wordlessly and hurried the  rest of the way up to his room. Once there, he sighed silently, then told himself to quit pouting and just be grateful that the Chief was being kind. He had to remember that he wasn’t Tony Stark here. That he wouldn’t ever be Tony Stark again. He was just the skinny hiccup the Vikings were stuck with. He didn’t have the famed Stark fortunes, and until he was good enough at smithing to make weapons worth anything, he would have to accept charity where it came. He’d never had to before, and hadn’t been prepared for how humiliating it was. 

But he wouldn’t waste it. So Tony went to his desk, and carefully, using his new knife so the letter’s edges wouldn’t be ragged, cut out three pages of his journal. He used the knife to sharpen a fresh stick before burning it, so he would be able to write smaller and neater. He blew the extra charcoal off, then began. He wrote carefully, with all the precision he learned in the penmanship classes Howard had had Tony take. He kept the letters simple, just stating who he was, where he was, and that the Vikings did not mind Americans coming on the island as long as they did not threaten the Vikings. He put a request for rescue at the end, to make sure it was the last thing they read, and signed his name. He folded the letters in thirds, and laughed to himself as he poured wax from his candle over their edges to seal them. Maybe he should make something to put a pattern on the wax, like in the movies. Of course, he probably wouldn’t send any other letters after these. He sighed, and set them aside. He didn’t want to look at them anymore. Instead, he grabbed his journal and his herbalist book, and headed downstairs to work by the fire. On the ground floor, Stoick was still staring into his ale. He raised his eyebrows when Tony came back down. 

Tony shrugged, suddenly awkward. “It’s warmer down here, so I figured I’d work here, if that’s okay?” Immediately he winced, his father’s words playing through his mind. _Never ask for anything, boy! Asking gives them the power; Starks are stronger than that._  

But Stoick perked right up, and said. “Yes of course, yer more than welcome to be down here, it’s yer home too.” He quickly cleared off another chair of the knives and whetstones on it and gestured Tony to it. Tony was a little hesitant in the face of Stoick’s eagerness. He sat down and put his books on his lap, and an awkward silence fell between them. Tony, needing something to do other than listen to the quiet, opened his books and got to work. He was getting to the point where he didn’t need to check his notes for every symbol. But there was one rune he couldn’t wrap his head around. He searched for patterns in how it was used, but he couldn’t see anything concrete. He glanced at Stoick, but the Chief had resumed brooding into his mug, and wasn’t looking at Tony. He seemed unhappy, which was strange for the Chief. The man was often irritable and grumpy, but Tony felt that had more to do with the frustration of dealing with Tony’s dramatics than a flaw in his character. And even in his bouts of bad mood with Tony, the Chief didn’t seem depressed like he did now. Tony thought about asking him if he was okay, but he didn’t think their relationship was stable enough for Tony to rock the boat by pushing him to talk when he was clearly upset about something. Tony shrugged it off. If Stoick wanted to talk, he could initiate it himself. Although Tony hoped he wouldn’t. As nosy as Tony could be, he really didn’t want to be in the position of having to comfort a Viking Chief. He turned his attention back to his work. But after another ten minutes of making no headway, he groaned to himself and pushed the book away to rub his face. 

“Everything alright, lad?”          

Tony bobbed his head. “Yeah, just getting frustrated.” 

Stoick nodded. “Aye, it’s not the easiest thing to learn. What are you havin’ trouble with? I can probably help.” 

Tony glanced up, surprised. And cautious. But he _was_ having trouble, and had been for a while, and Stoick didn’t seem like the type to get mad at Tony for not understanding something. Vikings as a whole didn’t seem like the type to get angry over struggling to learn something, since they didn’t seem too concerned over exercising their intellect.  

So he nodded. “Yeah, okay. It’s this rune here, I just can’t find how it relates to the wording around it …”     

Stoick was a surprisingly good teacher. It must be that straight-to-the-point Viking attitude. It only took a few minutes for Tony to understand what he had been missing. Stoick seemed better now that he was distracted, so Tony asked him about other things he was having trouble with. It was nice. Tony always enjoyed talking with Stoick when they were doing something like this. They only seemed to have trouble talking to each other when they tried to talk about anything serious. If they were just talking about reading, or joking about nothing, they got along perfectly fine. But at least they weren’t constantly at each others’ throats, and were getting along better than they had at first. Tony hoped that their relationship would continue to improve. In America, Tony hadn’t been too concerned about his relationships with other people, beyond his family and Jarvis. He had been disappointed, but not devastated by being rejected by his fellow students in high school. He had always held out hope that he would make friends in the next step of his life. When he was a child, he thought he would make friends when he started school. Then he had hoped he would find people in middle school, then in high school, then in college. But now, he had very limited options for friends. He didn’t want to be hated by the man who housed him, the way his father had hated him. It was bad enough he had apparently killed any possibility of making friends his age. And that meant he’d be friendless for the rest of his life since Berk’s population is so small. Tony had always been afraid he would spend his life with no one who liked him for _him_. Jarvis had always told him that since he was in classes with people so much older than him, that they just had trouble seeing past his young age. But now, for the first time in his life, Tony had people his age in his life.  

And they wanted nothing to do with him.       

But at least Gobber liked him, and if he was careful Stoick might grow to like Tony as well. Or at least not hate him. 

At some point, Tony and Stoick had gotten distracted from the reading. Stoick told Tony a story about Bucket and Mulch, the people who had rescued him from the raft, that had Tony laughing until his sides hurt. Tony felt he should probably avoid any stories about his time in America, since it usually made Stoick get a grim look on his face. So instead, he told Stoick about the rotten fish Gobber had left in the forge. Stoick grinned and started telling Tony about the things he and Gobber had gotten up to as children and young adults. Tony laughed and had a great time listening to Stoick, which was unusual. Tony was rarely interested in other peoples’ stories. But then again, no American had ever led a life half as interesting as a Viking. And Vikings definitely had the art of storytelling mastered. Stoick whispered and shouted for maximum effect and used his whole body in the process, and had Tony riveted from the start. They talked until the fire was down to embers, with the rain drumming softly on the roof. 

The Stoick sighed and stood up, stretching. “Well lad, I think it’s time for us both to get to bed. I’ll speak with Trader Johann first thing in the mornin’, so you can head over there whenever ya get up.” 

Tony nodded. “Yeah, okay. Night, Stoick.” 

The Chief nodded. “Night lad. And don’t be hesitate to ask me if ya have anymore questions about yer reading, or anything else.” 

Tony nodded, and Stoick went to his room, putting out the candle on his way. Tony gathered his books and went back up to his room to ready himself for bed. He collapsed onto his bed with an exhausted sigh. It had been a long day, but talking with Stoick had been fun. Maybe Tony would have to work on his reading by the fire more often.

  
And by the time they went to bed, Stoick hadn’t looked as depressed.    


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, those of you who voted in the last chapter were CONFLICTED. I've been watching the numbers change, but so far the decision seems final. I won't say what won to prevent spoilers for people who want a completely spoiler-free story, but you can see it by going to the link in the last chapter and clicking results. I am still watching those numbers, so if you have't voted yet and want to, it still matters! 
> 
> Also, HUGE thanks to my new Beta, EchoMoonstone! She did a wonderful job cleaning the story up, and did it fast so you guys get this chapter all the sooner!  
> \- Dandy

When Stoick woke up the next morning, the Southern boy was still sleeping. Stoick was careful to make as little noise as possible to avoid waking him. He needed to speak with Trader Johann alone, before the lad got up. He made eggs for himself and the boy, all the while being careful not to smack the spoon against the pan, and placing dishes with extreme caution. He ate quickly and washed up before leaving the house. Outside, there was no sign of the storm from the night before. Instead, the sun glittered off the sea with morning light and frost was sprinkled over the grass, warning of the approaching freeze. Stoick would have to make sure the last of the year’s crops were collected and send Bucket and Mulch out for one last fishing expedition. Barns would have to be patched in preparation for the low temperatures, to keep the animals from freezing. Animals had to be slaughtered and the meat salted for storage. Stoick would have to speak to Silent Sven about getting the sheep sheared and have more blankets and clothing made. He had hoped to go out once more to search for the nest before the freeze came, but the arrival of the Southern lad meant he wouldn’t be able to go anywhere until the boy was more settled. Stoick sighed. The work of a Chief never ends. Stoick wanted a day off. He rarely resented the work Chiefing requires, but sometimes he just wished he could climb Berk’s tallest mountain, like he and Gobber used to do when they were merely boys trying to prove themselves men, and look down on his island. The day before had been tough, and Stoick had come close to just throwing his hands in the air and stomping away to find a quiet place to be alone with his thoughts. He had stumbled up on the ancestral sword he had presented to Valka at their wedding. His father had given it to his mother, and he had given it to Valka, and she would have given it to their first son, as their traditions dictate. It had been left in the loft of his house, which they were planning on turning into a bedroom for the child they would never get to have. Phlegma must have stored it in a box under Stoick’s bed when she cleaned out the loft for the Southern boy, and Stoick had stumbled upon it while digging around for a new belt. It was a brutal reminder, not only that Valka was gone, but that any chance at a family, at continuing his line, was gone with her. He would not remarry. He did not care what his people said, Valka was _his_ , and he could not, _would_ not, replace her. Astrid would make a fine Chiefess one day, and Stoick would keep going as he had been. Having the Southern lad around was strangely comforting. It was nice to hear someone other than himself moving in the house, and it was even better now that he and the lad seemed to have worked out a kind of cautious truce. 

The night before had been surprisingly enjoyable. Stoick had been brooding, he knew he was, but seeing the sword opened up the never-healing wound Val’s death had caused. But the boy provided a good distraction, and it was interesting to see the pace he learned at. Astrid had been a good student when Stoick taught her her runes, but it wasn’t her favorite thing to learn and it was hard to keep her focused. Stoick had no such problems with the Southern boy. He was consumed by the book, completely enticed by it. Stoick was astonished at the pace he learned at. In such a short time, the boy had taught himself to read better than almost all the Vikings on Berk could. Stoick could count on one hand the number of people who still knew the runes better than that boy, and Stoick was sure he would surpass them, and probably Stoick himself, in a matter of days. Even Fishlegs, who spent so much of his time reading, took more time than the boy to learn how, and he had been taught. Stoick had thought the boy was bragging when he mentioned his intelligence, but it was quickly becoming clear that he had said nothing but the truth. Stoick know Southerners spent a considerable portion of their lives enhancing their minds instead of their bodies, but no one could pick up a new language that fast unless they were naturally gifted to begin with. Stoick sighed as he started down the ramp to the docks. If only the boy’s body was as powerful as his mind, then they would have something to work with. Stoick was afraid the boy would be snapped up in the next raid, and his mind wouldn’t help him defend himself. The lad was likely to get himself into trouble with that sharp mind and lacking the muscle to back it up. A child like Snotlout, who had the body but lacked the mind, made an excellent warrior. He did what he was told, and nothing more. Someone like the Southern lad was more likely to do what he thought was best, then find himself in trouble when he realized he couldn’t fight his way out of the situation he caused. 

Stoick shook his head as he approached the docks, where Trader Johann’s ship was bobbing softly in the light waves. There was no use worrying about problems that hadn’t arisen yet. The boy was preoccupied with learning the runes and smithing. Stoick would worry about him causing trouble when he had to, but for now, he had to deal with Johann. 

The man in question was already up and laying his merchandise, as was the norm for him. Stoick called out a greeting, which had Johann’s head popping up from the bundle of swords be was fussing with. 

“Ah, Chief Stoick! Oh, it is wonderful to see you, absolutely wonderful! Berk is my favorite of all the villages I visit you know! And seeing _you_ is always a treat! Why, I have so many stories to regale you with, I simply can’t wait! Just last month, I wrestled a giant grizzly bear and took its pelt! Such a pelt would make a fine garment for a Chief such as yourself, good sir, if you just look over -”

Stoick interrupted him, knowing the Trader would chatter all day if Stoick let him. “I’m sure it’s fine, Johann. But that’s not why I’m here. I need to speak with you.” 

Johann perked up, always eager for gossip. Stoick had originally thought about keeping the Southern boy away from Johann, knowing that if Johann met the boy, then by the time he returned the next year the entire Archipelago would know about him. But if the lad was to be one of them, he couldn’t be treated differently. And he would be found out about at some point in any case; the boy was simply too different not to stand out like a sore thumb. Better now, right away, then later, when people might think Stoick was hiding him. At least this way, people might not think the lad was worth kidnapping, with the idea that the Southerners would show up in the Archipelago and be willing to pay for the boy’s return. 

Johann gave an eager nod. “Of course Chief Stoick! What can I help you with?”

Stoick sighed, and gave Johann a bare-bones version on what happened. “Bucket and Mulch found a survivor of a ship wreck while on a fishing expedition. A young boy, fourteen years old. From the South.” 

Johann’s eyes went huge, and his mouth popped open. Stoick held up a hand to cut him off, wanting to finish. “He’s stranded, with no way to contact his people. He will be comin’ to yer ship to give you some letters. He is hoping that you will be able to give ‘em to someone who can take ‘em South.” 

Johann blew out a sigh, eyes abnormally serious. “Stoick, you know I won’t be going that far South. No one in the Archipelago does. There’s no one to give the letters to, nowhere for them to go.” 

Stoick sighed. He had figured, but it didn’t hurt to ask. “Please Johann. Just take the letters he gives ya. It gives ‘im somethin’ to hope for.”

Johann nodded. “Of course, Chief. I will take his letters, and he is welcome to pick some things from my ship provided of course…?” 

Stoick chuckled and shook his head. A trader to the bones, that’s Johann. “Our usual arrangement will do, I assume? We will stock yer ship with provisions as payment for makin’ the trip to Berk, as well as anythin’ the lad and I pick from yer ship.” 

Johann nodded happily. “As always, Chief, it is a _pleasure_ doing business with you! Now about that bear pelt…” 

Stoick smiled indulgently. “I’d be happy to take a look. Wrestled a grizzly for it, you said?” The freeze was coming, and the Southern lad was skinny and unused to Berk’s frigid temperatures. It was a good idea to get some heavier furs for the boy’s bed.      

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Tony woke late. He jerked awake when he realized the light in his room wasn’t from the morning fire, but from mid-morning sunlight pouring in through his window. Then he blew out a sigh and flopped back on his bed as he remembered he didn’t have to be at the forge until that afternoon. Still, it was unusual for him to sleep this late now. It would have been completely normal for him once, but even with the short time he’s spent on Berk, his sleep schedule had completely changed. Either Tony had been more exhausted than he had thought, or Stoick had made an effort not to wake him that morning. Probably both. Tony tried lounging in bed for a while, but hanging out in bed is a lot more boring when you don’t have the Internet. So he slipped on his boots and his vest, grabbed his journal, and went downstairs. Stoick had once again left Tony breakfast on the table. You would think the Chief was trying to fatten him up. He probably was, now that Tony was thinking about it. Huh. Tony ate his eggs, washed his plate and put it away, then grabbed his letters and went outside. It was a beautiful day out, and for a moment Tony just paused to stare. Berk really was gorgeous. Tony had never seen anyplace quite like it. With the water all around, the sea stacks jutting into the air, and the trees that speckled the village and darkened the land beyond, Berk was truly a gorgeous island. Maybe once Tony had dealt with the Trader, he would explore Berk a little more, beyond the village. He’d have to swing by the Great Hall first, and improve the map he had copied.

It didn’t take much time for Tony to reach the docks, and there were surprisingly few Vikings there. Tony must have missed the rush, and they had all gotten back to work. But Tony could see the twins fighting over an axe, and Snotlout was talking to a man dressed in bright clothing, who was cleaner and not as muscular as most Vikings. Combined with the ship he stood on, Tony was certain this was the Trader. Still, he hesitated to approach, knowing that Snotlout would have something to say. But he had to give the Trader the letters, and it probably wasn’t a good idea to let Snotlout know that Tony was avoiding him. So he sucked in a breath and forced himself to approach. 

Snotlout gave one of his wide, menacing grins as Tony approached. Then in a surprisingly innocent voice, said “Look Trader Johann! Here’s Hiccup now! I’ll leave you two to talk, I’m sure you’ll get along great!” Snotlout picked up a sword that was leaning against the railing of the ship, barked at the twins, and then all three left the ship, leaving Tony alone with the Trader. 

The man beamed brightly at Tony. “Ah, Master Hiccup! Master Snotlout has told all about you! About how you are from the South, and your ship sank, and you could do nothing to protect your family! Then, you were helplessly stranded at sea, and unable to save yourself, Berkians had to rescue you! Chief Stoick has taken you in, out of the generosity of his heart, even though you are unhelp to help protect the village!” 

Tony winced, but he couldn’t really argue. That _was_ what had happened after all, even if Tony would have worded it a bit differently. There was only one point he could correct. “Uh, yeah. So you got the basic run down. But my name isn’t Hiccup. It’s Tony, Tony Sta- well, I guess just Tony now.” 

Trader Johann didn’t seem to even notice Tony’s words. “Oh, such an exciting story! It reminds me of one of the numerous times I was stranded at sea! Why, not long ago, my sails were damaged by some hungry Nadders and my poor ship was stranded, unable to be directed or move with the wind! So after I bravely battled off the Deadly Nadders, I was forced to jump overboard and swim to the nearest land. Oh, I must have swam four _vika_ * to the nearest village. But unfortunately the nearest village held a tribe that was not happy to see me without my ship of goodies, so, Master Hiccup, I was forced to battle my way through and get the supplies I needed, then swim all the way back to my ship. Once there, I -” 

Tony interjected, trying not to be rude and risk alienating the man, although Tony felt this bullshit story could have lasted all day. “That’s fascinating Trader Johann. But again, my name is Tony, not Hiccup, and I -” 

“Oh, are you not the Southern lad? Terribly sorry, Chief Stoick told me a lad from the South would need to speak with me, then Master Snotlout told me the Southern lad’s name was Hiccup, and he -” 

“Okay, you know what, yeah fine, I’m Hiccup. Listen, I just need you to take these letters, and if you happen to bump into someone who could take them South, you would be greatly compensated.” Tony shoved the letters at him. So what if this man, like all the Vikings, refused to learn his name. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t even a Berkian, it wasn’t like Tony would have to see him often. Let him call Tony by Snotlout’s mean nickname, Tony just wanted to leave. 

Trader Johann beamed. “Ah, very good, very good! I will gladly take your letters, and will treat them with the utmost care! No need to worry Master Hiccup, there is a reason I am the most successful Trader in the Archipelago!” 

Tony sighed. “Yeah, okay, cool. Now if that’s all, I’m just gonna go -” 

Johann interrupted before Tony could slip away. “Oh, but don’t you want to take a look around? I have merchandise from every crevice of the Archipelago,” 

Tony paused, considering, then nodded. Afterall, he could use some tools for the forge that fit his smaller hands, and some of Gobber’s tools were designed for his changeable prosthetic hand, and were awkward for Tony to try to use. So he moved towards the piles laid out on the ship’s deck, and started poking around. Trader Johann launched into another story, and Tony made noises as if he were listening. He avoided the weapons, but he did end up finding several useful items. He didn’t want to take too much, since Stoick was the one paying for it. Or trading. Whatever. But he found a small hammer he could use for more delicate work, and a pair of forceps small enough to use with one hand, and a large stack of paper that was wide enough that Tony could use it for designing projects in the forge. He also found a pot of ink that he wanted so badly he could feel it in his gut. Seeing his eyes on it, Johann launched into a story about how he wrestled it from a giant squid and narrowly escaped with his life - and the ink of course. Tony had no way of knowing if it was actually squid ink, or if it was just extract from a plant. It obviously wasn’t from a real giant squid, since they were extraordinarily rare and only lived in the deepest parts of the ocean. But it could have been from a regular squid. Either way, with the way Johann went on about it, it was clearly too valuable for Tony to buy off someone else’s charity. But he promised himself that by the next time Trader Johann came to Berk, Tony would be able to trade for the ink himself. 

It took a few minutes for Tony to escape the ship, since Trader Johann wanted to share yet another story. Tony ended up making a run for it when Johann turned to gesture out to the water. Tony dropped his new supplies off in his workroom in the forge, where Gobber was happily pounding away at the anvil. Then he grabbed a stick-pencil and went to the Great Hall. It was quiet in the huge room, since it was still morning and there were probably still a good three hours before lunch and Tony would have to take over in the forge. He went straight back to the book shelves and found the book be had originally copied the map from. This time, when he cracked it open, he could read most of the labels. Tony grinned, pleased to see the evidence of his work, and quickly added the labels. He wrote them in English, but copied them in the Viking’s Norse runes in smaller print under the English words. It didn’t take him long, but once he had finished he went back outside. He had decided to visit a cliff the Viking’s had named ‘ _Odin’s edge_ ’. He wished he had a compass, but he felt pretty confident he could navigate based on the sun’s position. So he set off. 

Berk was a small island. It took Tony less than an hour to reach the cliff, since he had purposely chosen a place that wasn’t too far from the village. He made sure to use his knife to scratch the trees he passed, since he didn’t think he would survive the humiliation of getting lost and having to be rescued - _again_ \- by the Vikings. When Tony pushed through the foliage near the cliff, he found himself struck silent by the sight he was greeted with. He had admired Berk’s beauty since his first glimpse of the village from Gothi’s doorstep, but now, seeing it without any impact from humans, was otherworldly. 

The cliff was high and steep, allowing Tony to see straight down to the waves beating at the base. The ocean stretched out in front of him, sea stacks interrupting the blue span of water. The waves were low, and threw sunlight everywhere. Numbers and facts ran through Tony’s mind, comparing the aspect ratio to the sun’s elevation angle that would create this kind of scene. But he pushed them away. Why interrupt the beauty of the scene with numbers? It wasn’t like Tony needed them on Berk. For once, Tony just wanted to enjoy the beauty of the water without over-analyzing it. He could see water shooting into the air a ways away, confusing him for a moment. Then he realized. _Whales_ . For all the traveling Tony had done, he had never seen whales. Even on _The Seeker_ , the ship had been too loud for wildlife to get too close. Tony sat down right where he was, and pulled out his journal and began sketching out the scene.

  
He hadn’t drawn since he was a child. Howard had decided he was too old for such nonsense right around when Tony turned six. But Tony vaguely remembered lying on his belly on the floor, drawing Captain America punching the face of a bully Tony had to deal with at school. He remember his mother, before she had started drinking, smiling at him and stroking his hair, asking him to explain his picture to her. And even, in a fuzzy memory that must have happened when he was only three or four, remembered sitting in his father’s shop, drawing a car Howard was working on. He remembered Howard telling him drawing it was a waste of time, but he also remembered that Howard had taken the drawing and laid it on his desk. It was still there the next time Tony was allowed in the shop, and had taken away the sting of Howard’s words and left a warm glow in its place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vika: A sea-mile. An Old Norse measurement that equals about a mile, and is over the water.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, we are almost at 300 kudos! Thank you guys so much! I was thinking the other day, every single chapter of this story has comments. Every single one. That just blows my mind. I really appreciate the kudos, but the comments are really rewarding to read and I love seeing them! So in other news, it's almost time to bring Toothless in! I know you guys have been patiently waiting, and this was the longest intro in the history of intros, but we're almost out! I am anticipating one more chapter before Toothless makes his grand entrance. Thank you all so much for being patient. I am just as eager to get Toothless in here and really start the story, but I felt like I had to take the time to build up the backstory to make the transition feel natural. Also, I am trying to get a rough idea of who is reading this story, so please comment which fandom you're here from, and if you have seen both movies or just one, stuff like that. I've gotten the sense that it's mostly Avengers fans here, but I'm not sure. And thanks again to EchoMoonstone for beta-ing this!  
> \- Dandy

Tony stayed on the cliff until the sun was high in the sky, and he knew he would have to rush back to be on time for taking over at the forge. In that time, Tony finished his sketch of the water and was almost finished with his drawing of Stoick’s face when he had smiled at Tony on Funeral Beach. He felt a little silly, drawing like a child, but it’s not like his father was there to tell him off for it, and the Vikings couldn’t care less what Tony did. He sighed and stood, stretching his arms over his head. It was time - past time - for him to head back. So he grabbed his journal and left his pencil-stick behind, since it was so easy to replace, then headed back the way he came. He jogged through the trees, knowing he was late. Thankfully, he had left clear marks on the trees, and soon found himself back in the village. He rushed to the forge, and found Gobber still taking orders. 

The Viking raised half of his unibrow at Tony as the boy rushed in and grabbed his apron. “‘Bout time lad. Off day-dreamin’ again? All of ya Southerners so absent-minded?”

Tony smirked at him and grabbed a dull sword. “Only those of us important enough to get away with it. Besides, I thought you were trying to get me to be a Viking. Shouldn’t you be encouraging me to run around and beef up, maybe kill some brain cells while I’m at it?”  

Gobber chuckled. “If workin’ here in the forge doesn’t put some muscle on yer scrawny body, nothin’ will!”  

Tony groaned dramatically and rubbed his - admittedly sore - shoulders. “No kidding. So what can I expect for this afternoon?”

Gobber shrugged as he took off his apron. “The usual. Some people will need their weapons sharpened, Sven wanted his shears sharpened, and Eirik’s lucky axe was chipped.”

Tony nodded and shooed Gobber out, then got to work. The shears were an interesting challenge since they were something he hadn’t dealt with before, but he figured them out and got them sorted. He was sharpening a hunting knife when he heard a Viking calling from the window.

“Oi, Hiccup, ya in there? I need to use the forge.”

Tony quickly set the knife aside and scrambled to the service window where he found a Viking impatiently waiting. The man looked vaguely familiar. God, Tony was beginning to recognize Vikings from around the village. Freaky.

Tony pulled himself away from that thought and frowned at the man. “My name isn’t Hiccup. What do you need?”

The Viking frowned back. “I need to use the forge, like I said! I gotta make a helmet for my kid. He’s turnin’ fourteen in a week.” He sounded proud, as if an age was a major accomplishment.

Tony stared at him, not understanding. “Okay? Am I supposed to understand a connection here or something?” 

The Viking sighed loudly. “Here on Berk, when our children turn fourteen, they are given a Vikin’ helmet made by their mother or father, since they are approaching the age where they can begin Dragon Training and become a full member of the tribe.” 

Tony hesitated, since Gobber hadn’t mentioned anything about that, but it did sound like something Vikings would do. And Tony didn’t see why a Viking would lie about it, since Tony would have just made the Viking whatever he wanted. 

So Tony sighed. “Okay, which kid is yours?” 

“Fishlegs Ingerman.” 

Tony nodded, and hoped he wasn’t about to get in trouble for this. “Okay, come on in. The forge is already running, and here’s the materials you’ll need, we don’t have animal horns but I’m assuming you can work through that, and I’ll need to keep an eye on you, but you can work here …” 

It went pretty uneventfully. Tony watched the Viking - whose name he learned was Ramlegs, which told Tony that the Ingerman family must have a leg fetish - went about the construction of the helmet. He seemed to have a basic idea of how to smith, which meant the most Vikings probably did. Although Ramlegs didn’t seem to have any idea on how to properly handle the metal, he could force it into the shape he wanted. He added two small horns that looked like they came from a goat, and once he was done, he left with a nod to Tony. Although he still called Tony Hiccup. 

That seemed to be the pattern for the rest of the afternoon. Tony didn’t know what had changed, but every single Viking who came to the forge greeted Tony with the name Hiccup, and ignored his protests. It didn’t seem malicious like it did with Snotlout; in fact, they seemed confused about why Tony was arguing about it. 

So when Gobber popped his head in at the end of the night to see how the day had gone, and greeted Tony with a “ ‘Oi ‘iccup, how’d the day go?” Tony pounced 

“ _You too?_ My name is not Hiccup, why is everyone calling me that all of the sudden? I’ve _told_ you my name, all of you!”   

Gobber’s unibrow shot up. “That’s what Trader Johann called ya. I thought you’d finally decided on a name.” 

Tony practically snarled back. “I did decide on a name! _My_ name! My name is _not_ Hiccup! It’s _Tony!_ I’ve been saying that since the beginning! And what does it matter what that Trader says? He’s not staying, why is everyone going off what he says?” 

Gobber rolled his eyes. “Calm down lad. Yer gonna be staying here with us, so ya gotta be one of us. If yer gonna be a Vikin’, you gotta have a Vikin’ name. Trader Johann shares gossip with the entire Archipelago, so once ya confirmed the name with ‘im, that’s the name ya got. By this time next year, the entire Archipelago will be callin’ ya ‘iccup.” 

Tony groaned, rubbed his face. “If I’d known _that_ , I would have been more insistent on correcting him! I thought he would be leaving, so it didn’t matter! Snotlout just called me that to be a jerk, I don’t even really know what it means!”  

Gobber chuckled. “A hiccup is the runt of a litter. I’d say it definitely fits ya boy!” 

Tony groaned. So now he would be taunted over his small size every time a Viking tried to get his attention. Fucking Snotlout and his _stupid_ jokes. Of course, mean names seemed to be the norm for Vikings. Snotlout got stuck with a pretty terrible one himself. Tony supposed it could be worse, although that didn’t mean he was happy about it.  

Tony was still stuck on one point. “But Stoick said Vikings weren’t calling me by my name because it’s foreign and weird.”

Gobber shook his head. “He was trying to leave ya yer hope. He wanted ya to get used to the idea of livin’ on Berk gradually, so ya didn’t freak out about it. But he knew ya would need a Vikin’ name if the rest of the tribe would ever look at you as one of us.” 

There were those words again. _One of us_. Tony swallowed and looked away. He could admit, just to himself, that he wanted that. If he was going to be stuck on Berk, he didn’t want to spend his entire life as an outsider. And, although the Vikings were crude people, Tony never had to guess what they were thinking. He never worried that they were talking behind his back, or that they were plotting something, or looking to take something from him. Vikings said what they thought, and told you their opinion of you right to your face. If they wanted something, they asked for it or just took it. But they didn’t manipulate you or lie to try to get on your good side. And for Tony, he had spent his whole life in front of a camera. The closest he’d ever come to having friends were kids who temporarily tolerated his company for money and bragging rights. The idea of never having to doubt the people around him, of just getting to live his life without worrying about what the public would say, was intoxicating to say the least.  

But still. Having a name like Hiccup, where he would be basically answering to the name _Runt?_ Unacceptable. Which is what he told Gobber.  

The Viking just laughed at Tony. “Ya shoulda thought of that before telling Trader Johann that was yer name. Besides, it’s not a bad name. We believe that a hideous name frightens off gnomes and trolls.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like your charming Viking demeanor wouldn’t do that.” 

The rest of the night passed uneventfully. Gobber helped Tony close up the forge, and continued to call him Hiccup despite Tony’s protests. Tony asked him about Ramlegs, and Gobber confirmed that Viking parents do make their children helmets at the forge, and Tony handled that situation just fine. Which of course, made Tony realize that he didn’t have any family, so he would never get a helmet. He swallowed and quickly changed the subject. One more thing to separate him from the rest of the Vikings. He was already fourteen, and he would spend his whole life on Berk bare-headed, while everyone else wore helmets crafted by their parents. 

When Tony got back to his house, he found Stoick sharpening his axe with a whetstone while humming cheerfully to himself. Seems someone’s mood had improved since the day before. 

Stoick greeted him cheerily. “Evenin’ Hiccup!” 

Tony groaned. “My name isn’t Hiccup." 

Stoick ignored him. “I heard you got yer letters to Trader Johann. Did you find anything on his ship you liked?” 

Tony glared. “Not that name. I got a few things for the forge, that’ll help me smith things better and faster.” Tony wanted him to know that the things Tony got would help him improve the village, that Tony hadn’t been buying self-indulgent things on Stoick’s charity. 

The Chief didn’t seem concerned, didn’t even seem to be listening. “Good, good, have fun lad. I’m gonna go to bed, I gotta get up early tomorrow. Night Hiccup!” 

“That’s _not_ my -!” Stoick was already gone. Tony groaned in irritation, and gave up. He quickly put out the candles and headed up to his room.        

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

The next day, Tony woke scratching irritably at his face. He needed to shave. He could grow facial hair, but like most teenagers it was spotty and thin, and looked bad enough that Tony wanted it gone. Vikings didn’t have mirrors, so he couldn’t see his face, but he could feel the fuzzy little hairs growing on his upper lip and the sides of his jaw. But it wasn’t like Vikings had razors. Tony sighed and got ready for the day. Downstairs, Stoick was gone and had left Tony a plate of breakfast like usual. After eating and cleaning up, Tony left for the forge. He didn’t have to work until that evening, but he wanted some time with his new workroom. Tony greeted Gobber and slipped into his room. His new supplies were waiting for him. Tony carefully stacked his paper on his desk, and put his new tools in the drawer of the desk. He lit his candle, since the room didn’t have any natural light. It only took two strikes of the flint to light the wick, and Tony was pretty pleased with how quickly he had mastered that particular skill. Looks like he wouldn’t need to make matches after all. Not that he would be able to. If he couldn’t find even basic materials for his radio, he never would have been able to find white phosphorus for the head of the match. Tony was so limited by the resources of Berk, it would make it tough to invent. But Tony was a genius, and he would damn well manage. So he prepared a pencil-stick and pulled out one of his new extra-wide papers. He spent the next couple of hours just sketching out his ideas, nothing concrete, just working through his thoughts. He had just decided to focus on upgrading the weight catapults could launch when Gobber poked his head in to tell Tony it was time to get lunch. So Tony sighed and regretfully put his work away to follow Gobber to the Great Hall. He and Gobber were joined by Stoick, who was grabbing some lunch before going to ask someone named Mildew about getting some cabbage harvested before the frost could kill the plants. Tony listened to him and Gobber chatter away and ate quietly. There was an easy familiarity between them, and they taunted each other goodnaturedly and brought up stories from decades ago. Tony couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to have a friend like that, someone who knew you completely, inside and out. Someone you never had to doubt.

On their own accord, Tony’s eyes flicked over to the teens eating on the other side of the room. They didn’t notice him. Snotlout seemed to be in the middle of telling a story, and the other teens were listening avidly. Even Astrid seemed to be focused on him for once. The other teens had grown up together, and even those who didn’t like each other much were still loyal to each other. Astrid clearly was not a fan of most of the teens, but she still hung out with them. Fishlegs was picked on by the twins and Snotlout, but he still followed them. Because they were all part of the tribe. They’ve known each other their whole _lives_ . They’ve never _not_ known each other. Of course they didn’t just invite Tony into their group. Because he didn’t belong. He was an outsider not only to Berk, but to the Viking way of life. If Tony wanted to be accept here, maybe it was time he stopped ignoring Stoick and Gobber’s advice and started actually _trying_ to fit in.   

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

That night, after Tony was done at the forge and had gone home, he took his reading down to the main floor to sit with Stoick by the fire. The Chief gave him a pleased smile, but didn’t say anything. They sat quickly, the only sounds filling the silence was the popping of the fire and the scratch of Tony’s pencil. It was odd how the silence had stopped bothering Tony. Just one month ago, there was no way Tony would have been able to sit in silence like this. But now, the quiet was actually peaceful. The crackling of the fire was soothing, and Tony felt more relaxed than he could ever recall feeling in the South. There were no expectations of him at that moment. Howard wasn’t there demanding better grades, although Tony had always been the top of his class, even through all the grades he had skipped. No one was waiting to see what the youngest Stark could create. No one comparing him to his father. Stoick didn’t expect _anything_ of him. So Tony set his work aside, and started sketching instead. He was filling in the different shades of Stoick’s beard when the Chief spoke up. 

“Do ya need a knife?” 

Tony blinked at him, caught off guard.  “What?” 

“A knife, to shave. You keep scratching at yer face.” 

Tony realized he was, in fact, scratching his jaw. “Vikings shave with _knives?_ That doesn’t seem the least bit safe.” 

Stoick chuckled good-naturedly. “We’re Vikins’, it’s an occupational hazard. So, a knife?” 

Tony hesitated. On one hand, he badly wanted the thin little hairs gone. On the other hand, he still tended to cut himself with a regular razor. 

“I have a knife,” Tony hedged. He didn’t want to outright refuse. He had told himself that he would try harder to fit in with the Vikings, and although lots of Vikings had facial hair, none of the teens did. So he was probably supposed to keep his face shaved until he was older, which he would definitely be okay with if only he had a damn _razor_.  

Stoick nodded, and hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something. He opened his mouth, closed it and glanced away, then, determined, he looked back and opened his mouth again. 

“Do you want me to show ya how?” 

Tony blinked at him, shocked. He definitely hadn’t expected that. He remembered what Stoick had said during that God-awful talk they had had right after Tony had flinched from him. ‘ _Our parents are supposed to be the ones to teach us._ ’ What was Stoick offering here? Was he just offering to show Tony how to get rid of the annoying hairs on his lip? But then why would he look so nervous? He remembered Gobber’s words from their first dinner together at the Great Hall. ‘ _We believe that close bonds tie ya closer than just blood ever could_.’ During the funerals for the Vikings who had died during the raid, the Vikings had moved aside without question for Tony to stand next to Stoick. Like he had a right to be at the Chief’s side.

Tony must have been silent for too long, because Stoick quickly started backtracking. “You don’t have to, ya could probably manage fine on yer own, I just thought -” 

“No no,” Tony quickly interrupted. “That sounds good. Uh, yeah, I’ve got a knife right here, uh, if you can show me…” 

“Oh, yes, of course! Just a moment, we need to heat some water ..”  

  
Stoick scrambled out of his seat, looking more nervous than Tony could recall seeing the Chief ever look. He unearthed a small, beat-up metal pot and filled it with water, then hung it from a metal stand he placed in the fire. While the water heated, Stoick found a small, soft cloth and a tiny jar of something creamy-looking. Stoick took the water off the fire and set it on the table, not looking at all concerned about the damage the hot metal could do to the wood. He tested the water with a finger, and apparently content with the temperature, dropped the cloth in. He arranged Tony so he was sitting with his back to the pot of water, then pulled the cloth out and wrung it out. He draped it over the lower half of Tony’s face, just below his nose. Tony was beginning to feel ridiculous, and he kept twisting his fingers together to hide their shaking. He didn’t understand why he was so nervous. It wasn’t that he thought Stoick would cut him. He _knew_ he wouldn’t. But this felt a lot more important than just a shave. Stoick took the knife Tony offered him and tested it’s sharpness with his fingertip. He nodded approvingly and took the cloth off Tony’s face. The heat of the water had softened his skin, and the sharp knife glided smoothly over his jaw. Small, thin hairs fell away. Stoick worked carefully, focused on his task. They were both silent. Tony focused on staying as still as possible, and the Viking Chief on removing Tony’s facial hair without nicking the skin. Once Stoick had deemed him done, the man opened the small jar of cream and started rubbing it into Tony’s skin. Tony’s nose instinctive wrinkled at the smell. _Animal fat_. But he didn’t say anything. He was taking his pledge to try to fit in seriously. After he was done, Stoick gave Tony an awkward, but sincere smile and vanished into his room. Tony put out the candles and went up to his own room. That night, Tony drew Stoick’s hands wielding Tony’s knife, trying to capture all the care the man had shown. And when he finally went to sleep, he had no nightmares.    


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is short, but that's on purpose, since I just wanted to focus on this one scene. This is the last chapter of the intro! Next chapter starts the HTTYD storyline, and Toothless finally enters the story!
> 
> As always huge thanks to EchoMoonstone for betaing this!
> 
> -Dandy

The next two weeks were peaceful, until they weren’t. Tony was enjoying his work at the forge, and had even managed to get his hands on an old catapult to try to improve. But without his tools it was much harder than it should have been to work on such simple weapons. Tony would kill for a tension meter. He had no way of knowing if the spring was calibrated correctly, and it was driving him crazy. But he didn’t get much time to dwell on it, because the dragons returned.

This time, Tony woke up to the sound of the war horn bellowing. He had become a light sleeper, something pretty much necessary for survival for Vikings. Tony scrambled out of bed, heart pounding. He remembered the previous raid far too clearly. He made sure to grab his journal so it wouldn’t burn if the house caught fire and his knife so he at least had a small chance of defending himself if he needed to. Downstairs, Stoick was already in his armor and was snatching up one of the many weapons in the house. Tony once again got the “stay out of trouble” talk, then the Chief was racing outside, already bellowing commands. Tony followed right behind him. The raid had not yet progressed as far as it did last time, and dragons were just beginning to spit fire down upon the Vikings. Tony gasped and scrambled back just in time to avoid a spew of lava from a Gronkle. Tony had been asking Gobber about the dragons every chance he got, and could now name the more common dragons on sight, and knew most of their attacks. Tony made it to the forge without much trouble after that. He and Gobber worked hard and fast. One was always at the window handling the Vikings, while the other worked to repair weapons as swiftly as possible. Tony kept his eyes on his work and tried to block out the sounds of screams, both human and dragonic, that were happening just outside.

Of course, that plan went out the window when the Night Fury struck. Both Tony’s and Gobber’s heads popped up when the high-pitched whistle split through the sounds of the battle, just seconds before blue-purple light filled the forge and the sounds of rock shattering and falling reached them. Immediately following the attack, was a horrible, _young_ scream of gut-wrenching agony. 

Tony’s eyes widened. Screams of pain were fairly common during the raid, but that one… 

“What was _that?”_ Tony gasped. 

Gobber’s face was uncharacteristically grim. “One of the kids. Sounded like Pallab. Lad’s only seven, and never knows when to stay outta trouble. He musta slipped outta the Great Hall.” 

Tony shuddered. The old, crippled, and very young stayed in the Great Hall during raids, but the Vikings couldn’t spare any able-bodied people to stay with them, so Tony could see how a determined child could get out. Gobber grabbed a weapon and eagerly charged out into the fray, bellowing a challenge. Tony had to work double time to keep up with the demand. The Night Fury took down one more catapult before it and all the other dragons decided they had done enough damage for the night and left. Tony finished up at the forge and left. He found Stoick, and most of the other Vikings, huddled around the collapsed watch tower. He could hear desperate, hiccuping cries coming from the center of the circle. He pushed his way through the Vikings, and found the young boy lying on the ground. Next to him was Stoick, a woman Tony recognized as the boy’s mother, and Gothi. Tony’s stomach rolled when he looked at Pallab. It was clear what had happened. The tower had been not only knocked down by the Night Fury’s blast, but completely smashed apart and several chunks had been thrown a distance from where the tower had once stood. One of the large stones that made up the tower had landed on the boy’s lower arm, crushing it. The Vikings had already pulled the boulder off the kid, and Tony could see the horrific damage done. His hand was mangled beyond recognition, just a ball of bloodied flesh and broken shards of white bone. The boy’s radius bone was splintered and jabbing through the skin of his wrist. Tony’s stomach rolled and he barely managed to keep his lunch down. God, it was bad enough to see the dragons killing the Vikings that had taken Tony in, but to see them do this to a _child_ … 

Gothi was studying Pallab’s arm, deep in thought. But her mouth went tight, and she shook her head to Stoick. That seemed to be some kind of signal to the Vikings. A relatively clean blanket was handed over from the crowd, and the Vikings with the kid rearranged themselves. Stoick sat by his head, murmuring reassuringly to him, while grasping his shoulder and bicep and pinning them to the ground. Pallab squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered in fear and pain. Gothi tied a thin strip of leather just below the boy’s elbow, pulling it tight before stepping back, blanket at the ready. The mother accepted an axe from the crowd and stepped to Pallab’s side, tears filling her eyes. Despite this, Tony had no idea what they were up to until the mother raised the axe high. His eyes widened, and the mother brought the axe down hard enough to separate the bone with a single swing. 

Pallab _screamed_. 

He screamed and screamed and screamed. 

Tony’s stomach finally gave up the fight and he bolted away from the Vikings, barely making it behind a half-burned down house before doubling over to vomit. He threw up everything in his stomach and crouched there, shuddering in horror. He could still hear Pallab’s shrieks coming from the remains of the watchtower. 

God, he was only a kid! Tony remembered watching him and some of the other young kids racing around the village playing dragon slayer. They wielded sticks and chased sheep all around the village, pretending the animals were deadly dragons running from them in fear. Now the kid was missing a hand. He would never hold a real sword in that hand, he would never be able to hold a girl’s hand on that side, never get to experience life whole. All because a dragon decided it wanted an easy meal.     

Tony’s eyes hardened. Now he understood, truly understood why the Vikings fought so hard. In order to be respected on Berk, you had to kill a dragon. Tony was small and skinny, and he would never be able to kill a dragon with his brute strength. But he had something they didn’t. He had an education, and a mind coveted and admired by millions. He was Tony fucking Stark, and he could defend this village with his brain. He could do his part to prevent injuries like Pallab’s. He could, and would earn these Vikings respect. He could kill a dragon. He _would_ kill a dragon. 

He would kill that Night Fury. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Pallab was moved to Gothi’s hut, and the Vikings moved on to the rest of the wounded. Tony looked at each injured Viking with new eyes, seeing their pain, and for one young woman whose belly was torn open, the acceptance of their coming death. All of this suffering, because of some hungry reptiles. Unlike the last raid, Tony refused to go back to bed. Stoick wouldn’t let him help with the fires like the other teens - which _hurt_ \- so Tony went back to the forge. Gobber wasn’t there, so he must have been out helping Stoick. Tony accepted the damaged weapons Vikings gave him and worked throughout the night. He worked until it was time for the funerals. This time, Tony didn’t have to participate. But again, when it was over and the words had been said and the arrows loosed, Tony stayed when all the other Vikings left for the feast. He didn’t speak or draw. He didn’t cry like last time. He just watched the flames dance over the water. 

Two Vikings had died at the raid. No, correction. Two Vikings were _murdered_ at the raid. One was the young woman with the ripped open belly, whose betrothed cried shamelessly and pleaded with their Gods to take him too. The other was a man with grey hair, who was almost old enough to retire to the Great Hall for raids. Both of his children had died - _been killed_ \- during previous raids, which left him with two surviving grandchildren, one who was only a toddler, that now had no family. But when Tony had asked Gobber what would happen to them, the man just said someone would take them in. Because they were Vikings, and a tribe, and they look out for their own. 

Tony stayed on the beach until the ships were gone, and the only sign that they had ever been there was the faint scent of burned hair that was still in the air. Then Tony went to the Great Hall. This time, Astrid didn’t come over to talk to him. None of the teens did. Snotlout seemed to be trying his best to get drunk off the weak ale the teens were allowed to drink, and the twins were fighting over something. Astrid was speaking with Stoick, which was a reminder that she was his heir and so far out of Tony’s league it wasn’t even funny. Tony found a spot that didn’t have too many moving bodies and pulled out his journal to draw out the scene. He wanted to capture the Vikings’ joy, their celebrations of the lives lived that had been lost the night before. He wanted to see their joy and let the music replace Pallab’s screams that were still filling his ears. 

Tony was blown away by their resilience. Tony was badly shaken and _unspeakably_ angry about the events of the battle. He wanted to feel his little knife plunge into the grub-like belly of a Gronkle, or into the bulbous eye of a Monstrous Nightmare, or into the vulnerable throat of a Deadly Nadder. But the Vikings wouldn’t allow their anger and grief to poison the feast. They forced their negative emotions aside so they could honor the lives of their friends. They let their anger out on the flying lizards that murdered their family, and let it go when the fight was done. Tony wasn’t sure he would ever be able to do that. If there was anything Southerners were good at, it was holding a grudge. And that was something that the Night Fury would soon learn.


	18. Act I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we did it! We're out of the Intro! Can you tell I'm excited? Thank you all so much for your patience. I know you have all been just as excited as me to get Toothless in this story. I'm not going to write all the scene from HTTYD with detail like I did for most of this one, since I don't want to just narrate the movie. But some scenes, like this one, are just too important to skim over, and sometimes I might need to show a character's thought process. Again, thank you EchoMoonstone for betaing this!  
> \- Dandy

_Nine months later._  

Tony woke up to the sound of the war horn bellowing. His heart jumped, but it was more in excitement than terror for once. Today was the day. He _knew_ it. He would finally shoot down that Night Fury. His bola launcher was as ready as Tony could make it, and all Tony had to do was find a way to slip out of the forge with it. He grabbed his journal and knife, put on his boots and ran downstairs. Stoick was already gone. Tony yanked the front door open. 

And was greeted with a spray of liquid fire from a Monstrous Nightmare. 

He slammed the door shut just in time to avoid being burnt to a crisp. He waited for a brief moment, then peeked out. Finding it clear, he ran outside. The raid was already in full swing, and it was clear this would be a bad one. The winter had only just passed, and the raids had slowed down during the cold months, so the dragons must be hungry. Tony dashed outside, just in time to see Ark being carried off when he refused to let go of a sheep a Nadder had grabbed. He let go just in time to avoid death, although he hit the ground hard. Tony winced in sympathy, and raced away. He reached the turn for the forge in minutes, but this time he ran past. He just wanted to get a look at where the worst of the fighting was, to try to get an idea of where the Night Fury would strike - if it showed. It didn’t always show up, but this was a bad raid and Tony _knew_ it would be there. But before he could get far, he was suddenly snatched up and yanked clear off the ground. Tony gasped and struggled, certain a dragon had him. But before he could do more than wiggle, a familiar, booming voice stopped his struggles.        

“ _Hiccup!_ What are _you_ doin’ out - What is he doin’ out?! Get back inside!” 

Stoick tossed Tony back towards the forge like he weighed no more than one of the buckets of water of teens were tossing over the flames. Caught, Tony had no choice but go back to the forge. He would just have to wing it when the time came. Gobber was hammering at a bent sword when Tony got there, and didn’t miss his opportunity to playfully taunt him. Tony returned the banter as he grabbed some damaged weapons to toss over the coals of the forge. He only had time to pump the bellows once before an explosion outside caught his attention. 

God, Astrid was beautiful. With the light of the fire dancing over her light hair, and playing across the dangerous glint of her eyes. The other teens filed in behind her, all of them wielding a bucket. Tony would kill to be out there. Outside, getting to be part of the action, and get at least a _little_ bit of glory from the fight. But no, nope he had to be trapped inside with Gobber. 

Gobber, who snatched Tony up by the back of his shirt and hauled him away from the window, tisking in disapproval. 

“Oh come on, let me out,” Tony pleaded. It was so _frustrating_ to be so close to the action that could raise his status from runt to future dragon fighter. “I need to make my mark!” 

Gobber poked Tony in the chest. “Oh you’ve made plenty of marks. All in the wrong places!” 

Okay, that was true. Tony never missed an opportunity to go after a dragon. And his smithing had improved a hundred times in comparison to where he had started, but when it came to making untested equipment without the proper tools, accidents tended to happen. But Tony didn’t see what the big deal was. Sure, some property had been damaged and some food lost, but Tony wasn't responsible for any _serious_ injuries. If Stoick would just let him _test_ his weapons, then they wouldn’t malfunction so much. Tony and Gobber argued back and forth, but Tony was determined to show Gobber his point. And maybe he would have succeeded, but when he patted the top of the cart that held the bola launcher, it activated. Tony jumped back to avoid being struck by the moving parts, but Obasi, who was waiting in line at the service window, wasn’t so lucky, and he got hit in the forehead with a loose bolt hard enough to knock his helmet off. Tony winced. 

“See, now this, this is what I’m talkin’ ‘bout!” Gobber complained, gesturing at the launcher. 

“Just - a mild calibration issue,” Tony sputtered. Why couldn’t Gobber _see?_ It was untested, made in secret in Tony’s workroom. Of _course_ there would be a few issues. But Tony knew why Gobber didn’t understand. Because although the man was a blacksmith, he was not an inventor. He didn’t create new things, he just kept making the things he knew worked. Which was fine, good for him, but Tony needed to _create_. And granted, the things he was making were hardly world-changing. They had probably been invented hundreds of years ago. But he was doing the best he could with what he had. And if he occasionally found it almost unbearably frustrating, well, that was his problem. It was worth it. Being able to be himself, without having to deal with a judgemental world that expected him to live up to his father’s name. Tony was willing to deal with the lack of technology and being called a runt. At least they said it to his face, and not behind his back. 

He and Gobber argued back and forth, before Gobber ended the argument by dropped a sword in Tony’s arms, making him grunt under the weight. Tony was sharpening the blade when he heard it. 

_The whistle._  

The Vikings shouted and and scrambled for cover, then the blue-purple fire exploded, taking out the catapult Stoick had been manning. The Chief barely managed to get his men and himself clear before the Night Fury struck. Tony shuddered with excitement, sword forgotten. As usual, once the raid got bad enough that the Night Fury showed up, Gobber left to join the fight, with one last warning to Tony to stay inside. Which Tony of course, ignored. Just 30 seconds after Gobber had left, Tony was racing back outside, pushing the cart with the bola launcher in front of him. Vikings who were waiting for weapons shouted angrily at him, but Tony just answered that he would be right back and kept going. They wouldn’t mind waiting for their weapons once they found out Tony had shot down the _Night Fury!_  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

He _hit_ it! He actually hit it! Tony couldn’t believe it. The creature moved so fast, Tony hadn’t been sure if he would be able to. But he heard the impact, and the dragon’s shriek of pain, and saw it go down, just off Raven Point. Of course, the Nightmare that attacked had complicated things. But Tony didn’t think he had ever been so frustrated as he was when no one believed that he had taken the creature down. Instead, Stoick had that half angry, half disappointed look on his face that Tony hated to his very bones. It was too much like Howard’s face. The taunting from the other teens hadn’t helped either. Tony complained the whole way back to his house, with Gobber making unhelpful comments. And of course, since it was Gobber, he had to make an unintentionally hurtful comment at the last second.   

“It’s not so much what ya look like. It’s what’s _inside_ that he can’t stand!” 

Yeah, thanks Gobber. That hurt. A lot. Tony tried, God, he’s tried _so hard_ . But as the months had passed, and Tony learned more and more about dragons and Vikings and smithing, he began to try to fight dragons, to take down the Night Fury. And his and Stoick’s relationship soured. Throughout the long, frigid winter, Tony grew _maybe_ half and inch, and gained pretty much no weight. So he remained a fishbone, but he began to put his mind to use. And yes, it got him into trouble more times than not. But he was trying! Having to guess his measurements made everything questionable. But if only he could test it, he could measure by trial and error. But Stoick was so frustrated with Tony, that he just wanted him quiet and doing what he was told. But Tony’s never been good at that. 

So as soon as he closed the door to his house behind him, he dashed straight out the back door and took off into the woods. He opened up his journal to one of his maps of the woods surrounding Berk, and tried to calculate the Night Fury’s trajectory. But he was missing too many variables to be confident of his math. He didn’t know the speed the Night Fury had been traveling at, or how high the dragon had been, or the force the bola had hit it at. So he had an approximate area the Night Fury _probably_ would have landed in. He hated not being sure. 

Tony searched for _hours_. Turns out, for a small island, there are a lot of potential hiding places for a downed dragon that might be invisible. Tony looked as systematically as possible, searching by quarter mile increments and putting an X over the places he had checked. By the time Tony cleared the entire area he had estimated the Night Fury would have landed in, the sun was high in the sky. Tony X’ed out the last spot on his map, then, in a fit of frustration, scribbled wildly all over it before snapping with book shut and groaning.   

“Ugh, some people lose their knife in the mud. No, not me, not good ol’ Hiccup the Useless. No, I manage to lose an _entire dragon!_ ” Tony smacked angrily at a tree branch that was in his way. Which promptly came right back to smack in him the eye. Tony cried out and reflexively grabbed his face. He gave the tree a betrayed looked. 

And froze. 

The tree was broken and twisted, with deep gouges in the wood. Like something moving at a great speed had struck it. Tony’s wide eyes followed the tree until reaching the ground by the end of it. There was a deep trench in the ground, leading over a small hill. Blood was splattered over the ground and surround trees. Tony’s heart jumped in his chest, and his fingers tingled with excitement and nerves. This was it. This must be where the Night Fury had landed. Tony, cautiously, stepped forward. He crawled up the hill and peeked over.

And gasped, jerking his head back down. 

It was _right there._ The Night Fury. Tony had only caught a glimpse of black scales and a huge wing before he had taken cover behind the hill. He waited, but no blue-purple fire shot out at him, and no angry dragon came for his throat. So, Tony carefully - oh so carefully - peeked over.  The dragon hadn’t moved. So Tony fully lifted his head, and scrambled for his knife. He quickly scooted forward, over the hill to take cover behind a large rock. 

The dragon didn’t move. 

Tony crept his way around the boulder and carefully moved closer. The dragon’s eyes were closed, and it was still. 

“I did it.” Tony whispered. The louder, more excited, “I did it! This fixes _everything!_ I have brought down this mighty beast!” 

And Tony planted his foot against the Night Fury’s foreleg. 

And the dragon moved. 

It groaned and shifted, instinctively recoiling against the unfamiliar touch. Tony gasped, and instantly his joy was gone, replaced with pure, undiluted terror. He scrambled forward again, knife pointed at the dragon. His trusty blade suddenly looked so small, so useless - _just like Tony_ \- against this creature. He was shaking so hard he could barely keep his grip on the weapon. His heart pounded in his chest as if it wanted to break free from it’s master and run as far from the Night Fury as possible. The dragon opened it’s eyes. Tony stared it at, his own eyes so wide it felt like they would fall out of his skull. The Night Fury’s pupils were thin slits. It didn’t fight to free itself. It probably knew it was useless at this point. It had clearly been struggling for most of the night, and now looked exhausted. Tony swallowed and forced his eyes away from the Night Fury’s. He _would not_ allow himself to feel guilty. He _wouldn’t_. This dragon was responsible for so many deaths. It was responsible for Pallab’s missing hand. 

Tony sucked in two deep breaths to try to calm his racing heart. “I’m gonna kill you, dragon,” He whispered. “I’m gonna, I’m gonna cut out your heart and take it to my Chief.” Tony turned the knife so the blade was pointed down. “I am a Viking,” Tony murmured to himself. “ _I am a Viking!”_ He shouted at the dragon. He _was._ He had taken down a dragon. Not just a dragon, but a _Night Fury_. All he had to do was kill it, and he would be one of them. Part of the tribe. They would respect him, the teens would all be eager to befriend him, and Stoick would be proud of him. All he had to do was kill this dragon. 

The dragon moaned as if it understood Tony’s words, and stared at him. Not at the knife, but at _Tony_. Tony sucked in another deep breath and closed his eyes, raising the knife high. 

And peeked out at the dragon. 

The dragon lifted it’s nose a little higher, eyes widening. As if it knew, as if it understood what the knife was meant for. Tony squeezed his eyes shut again, tried to block the dragon out. _Come on Stark, just do it! Remember Pallab! Remember Birger!_ The Night Fury moaned pitifully and Tony heard the soft thump as it dropped it’s head back to the hard ground. 

Accepting it’s death. Just like the Viking woman who had died in that same raid that Pallab had lost his hand in. Tony grunted and raised the knife higher, not letting himself open his eyes. 

But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring that blade down, not after seeing the fear in the dragon’s eyes.  He sighed, dropping his hands. He looked at the knife in his hand, then at the dragon. The Night Fury still hadn’t opened it’s eyes. It heaved for breath, terrified. Tony panned his gaze along it’s body. 

It was … smaller … than he had expected. Sleeker. No long teeth or horns. It had huge, bat-like wings that were currently wrapped in rope and splayed out awkwardly on the ground. The ropes had wrapped around the dragon tightly enough to tear straight through scales and skin, ripping into the muscle underneath. The bola was stained with blood, and broken scales were scattered by Tony’s feet. The rope had torn in so deeply in places that the dragon’s flesh had closed over the ropes and Tony couldn’t even see them.  Tony swallowed. It looked _painful_. Guilt churned in Tony’s belly, and he backed away from the dragon. 

“I did this,” Tony whispered. He turned back towards the village, then hesitating, looked back at the dragon. It would starve. He knew that. The Vikings rarely came to these parts of the woods, and the dragon wouldn’t be able to escape. It had obviously been trying all night, judging by the dirt, scales, and blood thrown everywhere. Tony sighed and closed his eyes. He couldn’t leave it. 

So he went back, and started sawing at the ropes. He was so focused on what he was doing, that he didn’t notice the dragon’s eyes flash open. The Night Fury remained still, unmoving, and Tony didn’t even think about the dangers of loosing such a deadly creature until after he had cut the last rope and suddenly found himself slammed down, his head cracking loudly against a rock, and staring into the eyes of the most dangerous creature on the planet. 

Tony was gasping, fear tearing through him. He whined and instinctively jerked his face up, away from the dragon. 

Exposing his throat. 

The dragon stared into Tony’s eyes, growling dangerously. Tony stared back, his heart slamming in his throat. There was something different about looking at it now. The dragon’s fear was gone, and in it’s place, was straight up _anger_. And intelligence. Tony stared into the Night Fury’s eyes, and was suddenly certain that it knew exactly what the knife was, and what Tony had been planning on doing with it. Tony was sure this dragon knew far more than humans had ever given it credit for. The dragon drew back slightly without giving up it’s grip on Tony, and inhaled deeply. Tony squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. So this is how he dies. He survived a raft for days on the Arctic Ocean, survived Vikings and dragon attacks and a freezing winter like nothing he had ever experienced before. And he would die here, on his back, with dark scales looming over him. 

But he didn’t. The heavy paw on his chest was suddenly gone, and the dragon _roared_ , a deep shriek that raised every hair on Tony’s arms. 

Then, it just … left.

  
It turned, not so much as stepping on Tony, and lunged off into the woods. Tony stared after it, too frozen even to breath. The dragon shrieked again as it slammed into the trunk of a tree, and fell. It immediately leapt off again, still making that horrible screaming sound as it staggered it’s way deeper into the forest. Once it was out of sight, Tony gasped wildly, and grabbed his knife where it had fallen next to him. It had been in reach the whole time, but Tony had never even thought of grabbing it. Probably for the best. Tony was sure that if he had gone for a weapon, the Night Fury would have killed him. Tony managed to struggle to his feet and take a couple of shaky steps towards the village before blackness overwhelmed his vision and he collapsed to the ground.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any of you ever notice those rope-shaped scars on Toothless's neck and foreleg? That match up right where the rope had been wrapped around him when Hiccup shot him down? Losing his fin wasn't his only injury.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you EchoMoonstone for betaing this!

_He couldn’t fly_.

It was a crushing realization for the great black dragon. His tail, his poor tail, was mangled beyond repair and no amount of licking would give him his fin back. He had been afraid of this when he had felt the pain tear through his tail, terrified that he would spend the remainder of his life grounded and vulnerable. Never to taste the skies again. If that fate wasn’t bad enough, he was trapped on an island of Vikings. As if _that_ wasn’t bad enough, he was stuck in a large hole in the ground that was lined with rocks so he couldn’t escape. There were few fish, and the ones that were there were too fast for the dragon to catch without his flight. So he would starve to death, here on an island of Vikings, dying an un-honorable death just as his sire had. His mother at least, had died in battle. The Dark Scaled remembered that at least, although he had been only a hatchling at the time, too young to even remember his name. It was not long after that when his sire passed as well, leaving him with no memory of who he was and only the faint memories of his predecessors that were burned into his mind from the trauma of their deaths. So now he was an Unnamed. The only good thing that had come from the small Viking and his flying ropes was that the Queen now considered him good as dead and turned her gaze off of him.

The Unnamed one had not expected to be struck down. He had been moving fast and staying high. He thought he was being smart. He protected his broken flock the best he could, and did not need to steal food to appease the Queen the way the rest of them had to, since he was too valuable to risk. But then he heard an unfamiliar snapping sound. It had not concerned him. He was far from the dangers of the grounded Vikings. But then he felt something wrap around his wings, tear through his hard scales, and drag him towards the ground. _He was falling._ That was a horror he never thought he would have to live through. He fell, alone, unable to spread his wings. Then the impact, the out-of-control drag through the woods that had taken his fin. The hours spent struggling to free himself, only to drive the Viking weapon deeper into his flesh. Then the small Viking, with his little false-claw that was still capable of killing. The Unnamed one had not fought, knowing that he could not get free and this was at least a slightly better death than the alternative. But then, the small Viking cut him free. That had certainly shocked the dragon. He had pinned the little Viking the moment his bonds released him, but found himself unable to take the killing shot that would return his honor to him. There was … something … about the Viking. Something that caused the Unnamed one to hesitate. And he had found himself unable to take the Viking’s life. After all, the hatchling had spared him. It was not unreasonable for the Unnamed one to return the favor.

But now he was alone, and although that was a relief since he was free of the Queen, he was also trapped and was looking at a future of starving to death. And that was unacceptable for a Dark Scaled. So he pushed himself back to his feet, and with all the fierce determination of his sire, resumed fighting to escape his rocky prison.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony wasn’t sure how long he was unconscious but when he woke up, the sun was almost at it’s highest point and he knew he would have to hurry to get back to the village in time for the funerals. So even though his legs still felt shaky, Tony raced back and reached the beach just as the bows were being handed out.

Tony had been right in his assessment of the raid. It was bad. Five Vikings were dead, and a dozen dragons. Looking at the ships that held the bodies caused shame to curl in Tony’s gut. He had released a dragon, the most dangerous dragon, back onto the village. Anyone that the Night Fury killed from now on would be _his_ fault, and his alone.

Tony didn’t have to shoot for anyone. He never had had to, after Birger. The only people on Berk he would probably have the right to shoot for if they died would be Gobber and Stoick. And that was a possibility Tony just couldn’t deal with.

Tony, as he had for every funeral, stayed when the others left. The others all knew he would by now, and he was left in peace. Tony quietly watched the flames writhe over the water as the smell of burning flesh tainted the air. He let a dragon go. He let a _Night Fury_ go. He was no Viking. Tony swallowed. If Stoick, hell, if _Snotlout_ had found that dragon they wouldn’t have hesitated for even a moment before killing it. God, Tony just couldn’t help but find new ways to alienate himself from the Vikings, could he? Not only was he freakishly small, but he was constantly creating things that never worked like they were supposed to, and now he couldn’t even bring himself to kill a dragon he had watched rain destruction down on the Vikings for months. He had _sworn_ to himself he would kill that damned dragon, and he failed. Like things hadn’t been strained enough between Tony and Stoick. Tony had to make sure the Chief never knew that he had let the dragon go. It might even be a severe enough of a crime to cast Tony as an exile, where at best he would be sent off the island with a small boat and a handful of supplies. Tony felt like he would deserve it. The past months had been tough, but they had also been the best of Tony’s life. It was so _liberating_ , just to be himself. The Vikings didn’t expect him to do anything they didn’t expect of the other teens. His name didn’t _matter_ here, proven by their refusal to call him it. Tony had resented that at first, but now he was oddly grateful. Well, not really. He hated being called Hiccup, and would have been perfectly content to just go by Tony. But he was happy to drop the Stark.

When the ships had sunk under the waves, Tony sighed and turned back towards the village. The sky was clouding up, as if it were going to rain. It smelled like it. Tony was still wasn’t very good at judging the weather, but he was learning. He had learned a lot over the past months. Turns out, in Berk there are blizzards so severe you can get lost and die just a few feet from your house. So when the weather took a nasty turn, the Vikings all piled into the Great Hall to wait out the storm. And when you’re stuck in a room full of people who at best are mildly annoyed by you, it turns out that there isn’t much to do. So Tony would read, and talk with Gobber and Stoick. As a result, he now knew more about Viking history than most Vikings probably knew. And he had learned a lot just by being around the Vikings. He wasn’t as much of a city boy anymore. He was good at telling the time based on the sun, since that was mostly just judging angles and shadow lengths. He was getting better at predicting the weather, although Berk’s climate was so sporadic it made it quite a challenge. He could tell most of Berk’s plants apart, and knew quite a bit about their medical uses from reading the herbalist book Gothi had given him after he had arrived on the island.

Tony sighed when he arrived at the Great Hall. He would love to skip it, and get some sleep. But he knew he owed it to those dead Vikings, same as the rest of the Berk, to go in and acknowledge their lives. So he went inside, and found the feast in full swing, as it always was by the time Tony arrived. Tony went to the back, to the corner he usually tucked himself into and watched them. Of course, after last night, Snotlout had to take the opportunity to harass Tony.

“Hey Useless!”

Yeah, that had been another lovely little development. Once all the Vikings started calling Tony Hiccup and he stopped reacting to it, Snotlout had needed to up the ante to get a response from Tony. And boy did he. Tony knew he should just stop reacting to it, but God, out of everything he could call Tony it had to be _that_. That very insult Howard loved to lob.

Snotlout taunted Tony over the Night Fury no one believed he had shot down, while bragging about starting Dragon Training the next day. And that was something Tony _didn’t_ want to think about. He had fought so hard to get Stoick to allow him in Dragon Training with the others, but now he was unbelievably grateful the Chief had refused. Now Tony knew that he couldn’t kill dragons, and he was glad that at least he wouldn’t have to face that humiliation in the ring.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony had spoke too soon. Of _course_ he did. Panic had crawled over his skin like ice then Stoick told him that he was starting training the next day. And what could Tony say? He had fought for _months_ to be allowed to fight dragons, so of course Stoick had laughed when Tony tried to say he didn’t want to fight. And Tony couldn’t tell him why without revealing that he had released the Night Fury. So Tony just stood there helplessly, heavy axe hanging in his arms, as Stoick left to search for the nest. The next day, Tony went to the Arena where, as expected, the other teens were less than thrilled to see him. Tony survived the jeering as he had all winter, by lowering his head and trying to block their voices out. That had been another hard lesson he had learned. He wouldn’t get anywhere by antagonizing Snotlout. All that did was raise his aggression level, and it just pushed the other teens farther away. Tony was still holding out hope for eventually making friends with at least Astrid or Fishlegs, and insulting their friends just challenged that Viking loyalty. Although Tony couldn’t resist the occasional sarcastic comment.

So when he entered the ring and overheard the teens discussion of the various scars they were hoping to receive, he spoke before he could stop himself. “Yeah, pain. _Love_ it,” Tony muttered with a roll of his eyes. There were some aspects to Vikings Tony just couldn’t understand, no matter how hard he tried.

Dragon Training was just as awful as Tony had expected. Fishlegs seemed unable to stop himself from muttering numbers about the dragons, like real-life RPG stats. Normally, Tony would be interested in talking about them, since Tony loved numbers and appreciated the black-and-white appraisal of the dangers of each dragon. But he _really_ didn’t want to be thinking of the impressive jaw strength of a Gronkle when Gobber had just released it from it’s cage.  

Tony didn’t even try to fight the Gronkle. He just tried to stay out of its way. Using this strategy, he actually made it to being the second to last person in ring, after Astrid. But that didn’t help him when he found himself pinned against the wall, staring into the glowing mouth of the Gronkle. Even before the dragon released the fire, he could _feel_ the heat coming from it. But then Gobber’s hook was suddenly snagging the dragon’s mouth and yanking, just in time to redirect the shot to the wall above Tony’s head. Embers and hot rock showered down on Tony, and he instinctively curled up to protect his head. Gobber wrestled the dragon back into it’s cage and limped back, nodding to himself.

Tony tuned back into what Gobber was saying as he spoke to the teens, who were standing together, with Tony still against the wall. “Remember, a dragon will always,” now Gobber turned to lean in close to Tony’s face. “ _Always,_ go for the kill.”

Gobber roughly yanked Tony back to his feet, and hobbled back to the teens. Tony’s mind was stuck on Gobber’s words. He turned to stare at the hole the Gronkle had left in the wall, just inches above where Tony’s head had been. One blast at close range from the Gronkle, and Tony wouldn’t have even had a head left. So if a measly Gronkle was capable of that, the Night Fury could have completely _annihilated_ Tony.

So why didn’t it?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  

That was the very question Tony was murmuring to himself two hours later, where he was crouched in Raven Point, holding the remains of the blood-stained bola. Tony stood up and looked around. The Night Fury had left a pretty clear trail in its wake. There was plenty of blood smeared on trees and the ground heading deeper into the forest, in the direction Tony remembered the dragon taking. So Tony followed it. After all, the dragon would be long gone by now. Tony wasn’t sure what he was looking for. The blood splattered over the stones would hardly answer his questions. So when Tony pushed through a narrow crack in the rocks and found that the trail had ended into a pretty cove, he muttered a curse at himself. But as he was turning back towards the village, he noticed the scales scattered on the ground. Interested, he crouched to pick one up. It was beautiful. It had barely visible patterns, that caught the light and gleamed slightly. It was light, but rock hard. The _force_ it must have taken to break them and injure the dragon... He had known the bola launcher wasn’t calibrated correctly of course, but he hadn’t realized how much power it was packing. He remembered the blood staining the ropes and shuddered.

But then there was a sudden, inhuman shriek, and something large and dark flashed past Tony, heading up the cliff. Tony gasped in shock and fell back on his butt. The _Night Fury_. It was still here. The dragon didn’t make it to the top of the cove. It scrambled wildly at the walls for a few seconds before over-balancing and being forced to twist to glide back to the ground. But even that was shaky, and the dragon barely made it over the water of the small pond before crashing gracelessly to the ground. Tony’s heart picked up speed from a mix of excitement and nerves. The dragon didn’t know he was there, so Tony hopped down to a ledge to see better. The dragon stood back up right away, and leapt up. It beat its wings madly, but went tumbling back to the ground with a miserable sounding cry. It tried again. And again. After a couple of seconds of staring dumbly, Tony gasped and scrambled for his journal. Once the dragon got into the air, it would leave and Tony would never get this chance again. Tony hurriedly drew a rough sketch of the dragon, as it screamed in frustration and shot a blast of fire at the ground.

“Why don’t you just, fly away?” Tony mumbled to himself, confused. He sketched out the tail. But then looked at the dragon, and quickly rubbed out the left tail fin. And froze, fingers stilling. _The tail fin was gone._ Tony didn’t know much about dragons’ flight capabilities, but he knew physics, and aerodynamics. The Night Fury’s wide wings provided propulsion and lift, and the fins on its tail would have stabilized the dragon’s flight and given it control over turns. Now, it was missing the left one. No wonder the dragon kept falling. It couldn’t fly. God, not only had Tony shot the dragon down and nearly killed it, but he’d crippled the thing. It was trapped, unable to escape.

Tony was so shocked by the revelation and the illogical, churning guilt, that his fingers loosened their grip on his pencil and it tumbled free, hitting the stone ledge before rolling and falling all the way to the ground. Tony gasped and made a belated attempt to catch it, before freezing and looking up.

The Night Fury had noticed him. Its large, intelligent eyes stared at Tony, but it didn’t move. Tony wasn’t stupid enough to think he was safe. Even crippled, the Night Fury was dangerous. It would just take one blast of fire, and Tony would be nothing more than a smear of soot on the stone. The dragon had spared him before, but now it was trapped, crippled, and probably hungry. It had every reason to want Tony dead. But it didn’t shoot. Instead, it tilted its head, looking like it was studying Tony as much as he was studying it. Tony stared back, mesmerized.

Huh, it’s strange. Tony hadn’t noticed earlier.

  
The Night Fury’s eyes were green.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks EchoMoonstone for betaing this!

The Unnamed one had not expected to see the small Viking ever again. But when the little male crouched on the edge of the Dark Scaled’s prison, he couldn’t help but stare at the Viking. The Unnamed didn’t know why, but something was different about this one. A lack of … maliciousness. So the Unnamed stared, and the little Viking stared back.

The human had eyes the color of earth.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Seeing the Night Fury and realizing what Tony had done to it caused a storm of guilt that was entirely unwelcome. So he rushed back to the village, cursing himself the whole way. He had spared the dragon, he didn’t owe it anything else. He didn’t owe it anything to _start_ with. It was a damn dragon, an animal, not a person. And it had killed people. Even if most of the deaths caused by it were indirect, it was undeniable that if the Night Fury didn’t exist, there would be less dead Vikings. So Tony told himself to forget it. Forget the dragon, and throw himself into the village. He had Dragon Training to survive, and there was the forge that needed to be restocked from the raid.

So that was how Tony spent the next ten days. Training started slow, since Tony and Gobber had to restock the forge. But after a week, the forge was overflowing with weapons and Gobber told Tony to, “get yer arse to the ring, _now!”_ and Tony’s brief reprieve was over. After that, Dragon Training was everyday. But Tony couldn’t stop thinking about the Night Fury. And every time he thought of it, thought about how it was undoubtedly still trapped in the cove, guilt would swamp him. So he tried to focus on Dragon Training, but every dragon they saw had Tony thinking of the Night Fury. But one night at dinner, Gobber directed the teens to a large, familiar book. The other teens all left without giving the book a second glance, leaving Tony alone in the Great Hall. So Tony opened it. He immediately recognized it as the book he had seen soon after arriving on Berk. He hadn’t been able to read it then, but had known that it clearly held some kind of information on dragons. Now, Tony had no trouble reading it. And it was chilling. The storm didn’t help. Over and over, on every page … “ _Kill on sight. Kill on sight. Kill on sight.”_ But then, the Night Fury’s almost blank page. “ _Never engage this dragon.”_ Tony stared at the book, with his picture of the Night Fury resting on the place where the drawing of the dragon should be, and thought of intelligent green eyes. He swallowed and closed the leather cover.

When they faced the Deadly Nadder, it was the closest they had come to death in the Arena yet. Gobber had been too far away, standing outside of the ring, and if Astrid hadn’t been so quick the Nadder would have killed them both. Astrid’s rage was understandable, although unfair. Tony hadn’t meant to get in the way after all.

Her words were cutting. “You’re not one of us. But you’re part of this now. My parents’ war is about to become ours. Figure out which side you’re on.”

Her words rang true. Tony could have easily killed the Night Fury, and it had had the opportunity to kill him not once, but twice. But Tony let it go, and the dragon did the same. There was something else going on, and Tony was going to have to decide if he wanted to be a good Viking, or get to the bottom of the situation.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

So that was how Tony found himself creeping into the cove, fish in hand. The shield had gotten stuck in the gape in the rocks, so Tony had left it. After all, it would hardly protect Tony against a Night Fury. Tony was nervous. Sure, the dragon had spared Tony multiple times, but it’s been almost over a week since Tony had last seen it. It would have settled in the cove, and probably considered it its territory. And now Tony was walking right in.

But it didn’t kill him. However, it nearly gave him a heart attack when Tony heard the low growl from right behind him. Tony stared, heart slamming, fish clutched to his chest. The dragon curled its lip as it turned to face Tony straight on, swinging its damaged tail behind it. The dragon didn’t look good. Its injuries had healed completely, which meant that it must have an accelerated healing pace. The only signs of the wounds from the bola were lines over its scales where the ropes had torn in. And of course, the missing fin. But the healed injuries couldn’t distract from the dragon’s condition.

It was _thin_. You couldn’t tell from looking at its ribs like most animals, but its spine stood several inches above its wings. And its eyes were locked on the fish in Tony’s arms. So Tony swallowed, gathered his courage, and held out the fish. The Night Fury hesitated, but it took a couple hesitant steps forward. The its eyes flicked down and it snarled darkly, dropping into an aggressive, wide-footed stance. Tony gasped and yanked the fish back. The dragon growled low in its throat, not moving its eyes from Tony’s belt. Tony remembered the knife, and the dragon’s intelligence.

So he reached for it.

And the dragon snarled viciously, dropping lower to the ground. Tony gasped, but forced himself to pull the knife out of his belt. He knew with complete certainty now, that the dragon knew the knife was a weapon and could be used to hurt it. So Tony kicked his beloved knife into the water. The Night Fury’s eyes followed it, looking almost surprised. Then it dropped the aggression all at once, and dropped back onto its haunches as it studied Tony. It flicked a flap on its head - an ear? Tony held out the fish. The dragon’s eyes narrowed, but it didn’t look like it wanted to rip Tony’s hand off. It moaned, and it almost sounded nervous. The dragon crept forward, and the arch of its back only emphasized its thinness. Then it opened its mouth and reached for the fish.

Tony frowned. “Huh, toothless? I coulda sworn you had -”

Faster than Tony thought possible, short, sharp teeth snapped into place and the fish was yanked out of his hands. The dragon snapped the fish into two pieces. And swallowed them whole. Like an alligator,

“Teeth,” Tony whispered. The dragon licked its chops, looking pleased. But then its attention refocused on Tony, and it stalked towards him with a low rumbling sound that wasn’t a growl, but wasn’t exactly reassuring either. Tony tripped in his surprise, and found himself scrambling backwards as the Night Fury continued to move closer.

“Uh, no no! I, I don’t have anymore,” Tony whispered. His back was against a boulder. He had nowhere to go.

But the dragon made a soft sound that if Tony didn’t know better, he would have thought sounded guilty. Then its eyes rolled back, and what looked like a third eyelid came out to cover part of the Night Fury’s eyes.

And it barfed half of a fish into Tony’s lap.

Tony couldn’t help the disgusted sound he made. Helpless, he looked back at the dragon. But it was no help. It just rose onto its hind legs, and dropped into a human-like sitting position. It stared at Tony. Tony stared back.

But apparently the fish was some kind of draconic offering. One the dragon expected Tony to accept. So Tony swallowed his revulsion, and forced himself to bite off a piece. Thank God the dragon had given him the body of the fish, and not the head. But that wasn’t enough for the Night Fury, and at its insistence, Tony force the bite down. The dragon perked right up, the ear-things on its head standing up as its eyes brightened. Tony gave it slightly nauseated grin. The Night Fury’s eyes narrowed, but not with aggression. In concentration. Its lips tugged back awkwardly, with no sign of its strange, retractable teeth.

And it returned Tony’s grin.

Tony’s breath caught in his throat, and his eyes went huge. The dragon’s eyes were slightly crossed to look at Tony, and it was still sitting awkwardly on its hind legs. It looked like a complete dork. And it was undeniably adorable. But that wasn’t what had Tony’s thoughts freezing. The dragon was learning from him. It was trying to _communicate_. It observed Tony’s behavior, recognized a friendly gesture, and returned it. So maybe …

Tony stood up, and carefully reached out. He wanted, more than anything, to understand. To see the truth of this strange creature. But the dragon's silly smile fell off its face, and its teeth snapped down as its cute expression turned into a ferocious snarl. It whipped away from Tony to leap into the air and glide across the cove before crashing back into the ground. Tony quickly trotted after it. It circled a blackened patch of grass, and used its blue-purple fire to heat the spot before settling in. Apparently it was now comfortable enough with Tony to rest in his presence. Tony sat down by it, and gave it a small wave when the dragon gave him a startled look. Then it grumbled, sounding just like an annoyed child being forced to put up with an irritating little sibling. It flicked its off-balanced tail around to cover its eyes. Tony reached out again. He _had_ to touch. But the dragon’s yanked its tail up to glare at Tony. Tony leapt to his feet and spun away, feeling like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He and the dragon went in opposite directions. The Night Fury leapt into a tree, and much to Tony’s surprise, hung itself from its tail and cocooned itself in its wings like a bat. _Fascinating_. Tony couldn’t think of any animals off the top of his head who did that. Bats hang upside down, true, but from their feet. And despite what people think, opossums don’t actually hang from their tails. But the Night Fury did. Its tail certainly looked strong enough to handle it. And it would have to be, to stand up to the pressure of stabilizing the Night Fury in flight, considering the speeds the dragon moved at.

But now the dragon was asleep, and Tony had nothing to do. He could go back to the village, but he didn’t want to. Despite the danger of the dragon, Tony enjoyed its company. What Tony has always appreciated about the Vikings was how they didn’t care about his name. And he knew they wouldn’t lie or try to trick him. The same was true of the Night Fury, but even more so. It didn’t care that he was a Stark. It didn’t care that he came from a powerful family, and it sure all hell didn’t care that he used to be rich. But unlike the Vikings, it also didn’t care that he was small and skinny. It didn’t care that he was from the South. Once Tony made it clear that he wasn’t there to hurt the dragon, it had no grudge. It didn’t even seem mad about its crippled tail, or about how Tony had left it there to starve. It seemed content to start anew.

So Tony would do the same.

He spent the next hour watching the dragon sleep. But there was only so much of that his quick-moving brain could handle, and he ended up sitting on a convenient log to draw with a stick. He didn’t notice that the Night Fury had woken up until he heard a soft croon and became aware of the heat pulsing off the dragon who was suddenly sitting at his side. Tension immediately tried to tighten his muscles, but he forced himself to look away from the dragon. Besides, it wasn’t looking at him. It was watching the sand, where Tony had drawn of an outline of the Night Fury’s head. So Tony continued to draw. God, Jarvis would blow a gasket if he saw Tony. Sitting on a dirty log, drawing in the sand like a child with the most deadly dragon in existence purring at his side. But suddenly the dragon grunted and its heat moved away. Tony blinked at it, feeling almost hurt. But it just waddled a few feet away on its hind legs, using its tail for balance.

And ripped a Hybrid Poplar sapling right out of the ground.

Tony gasped at the dragon, but it didn’t even notice. Instead, it once again proved its intelligence. It began to _draw_. Just like Tony was, only it was smart enough to get a stick large enough for it to comfortably use. It gleefully spun and leapt, dragging its tree through the dirt. After a minute, it dropped the tree and purred contently as it studied its work. Tony _had_ to know what it had drawn. Once again, the dragon had taken something Tony had done and replicated it. It learned, and used its newfound knowledge to make an attempt to communicate. So Tony quickly moved to try to get a better angle on the dragon’s work, and try to see what it had made. But apparently the Night Fury took offense to Tony stepping all over its art.

What happened next was a strange, almost out-of-body experience for Tony. He stepped carefully around the lines, and spun to see all angles without risking putting a foot on a line. He held his arms out, and twisted this way and that. The dragon watched from the sidelines, purring away. Tony was caught up in his examination of the drawing - he was _not_ dancing, thank you very much - and was abruptly brought back to himself when he felt the heat at his back, and heard the low huff of air from above him that blew his hair everywhere. He cautiously drew back, but the dragon didn’t look upset. Its pupils were round and soft, and it looked content. So Tony reach out again. The dragon flinched its nose to the side, and when Tony didn’t take the hint, it growled softly and curled its lip. Tony pulled his hand back, and the dragon relaxed. Tony swallowed, and suddenly realized the problem.

The Night Fury had been making an effort all day to communicate with Tony, but Tony wasn’t meeting it halfway. He was going about it like a human trying to pet a dog. He expected the dragon to submit to his touch, whether it was comfortable with it or not. But the dragon was no pet. It was powerful enough to kill Tony without any effort, and intelligent enough to make what seemed to be calculated decisions. If Tony wanted to touch the dragon, he had to think about _its_ comfort.

So Tony closed his eyes, lowered his head, and held out his hand. He extended it until he could feel the Night Fury’s hot breath on his palm, then stopped and waited.

It was strange. He wasn’t scared, or even nervous. His hand was completely steady. Somehow, deep inside, he _knew_ this dragon would not hurt him.

He waited. Everything was still. Even the birds seemed to hush, as if they understood what was happening.

Hot scales pressed against his palm.

Tony exhaled, and peeked out. The dragon’s eyes were closed. Meeting Tony halfway.

The Night Fury’s eyes opened, and it looked almost as awed as Tony felt. Then it’s eyes narrowed and it snorted before spinning around to trot across the cove. Tony swallowed. He had been fighting so _hard_ to be liked by the Viking teens. Who would have thought he would find acceptance in soft green eyes and dark scales. He had his village, and this dragon, and Tony was suddenly happier than he had ever been. He wouldn’t give it up for _anything_. So he finally bid America farewell in his mind, and smiled at the dragon that was curling up to sleep.

For the first time in Tony’s life, he had a friend.

“Hi Toothless,” He whispered. “My name is Hiccup.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Toothless was shocked by the small Viking. _Hiccup_. Not only had he returned and offered his only food to the Dark Scaled, but he had given him a _name_ . He couldn’t remember ever having a name, and no one had ever cared enough about him to even give him a title. But this little Viking did. He gave up his false-claw without hesitation, and even though the boy was small and thin, he offered the great dragon his food. Guilt had washed over the Unnamed - _no, Toothless, he had a name now, he was Toothless_ \- and he had given the boy some of the fish the same way he would have for a hatchling. The little Viking - _Hiccup_ \- didn’t seem to understand, and Toothless figured sharing food like this probably was not a usual custom for humans. But he had accepted the offer. And he listened when Toothless told him not to touch, although he didn’t seem to understand why. And the human was _fascinating_. He had taken a small piece of a tree and used it to make pictures in the earth. It was unbelievable to watch. No dragon would have ever thought of such a thing, and if Toothless had not already understood how special this human was, he did then. And the human’s offer of _trust_. Toothless could have killed him, so easily, and the human would not even know until it was over. But there was no fear in the small Viking. So Toothless accepted.

  
The human looked as amazed as Toothless had felt. This had never happened before, as far as Toothless knew. So Toothless had needed to put a little space between himself and the Viking. But he heard the boy’s soft whisper. And just like that, the Unnamed one had a name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it probably feels a lot like I'm narrating the movie right now, and I kind of am. I won't always, I promise. But these first few meetings between Tony and Toothless are the foundation of their relationship, and I feel like Tony's thoughts are too important to skip. If it annoys you, please bare with me!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at 400 kudos! Here's an early chapter to celebrate! Again, huge thanks so EchoMoonstone for betaing this! Also, is anyone else watching season four of Race to the Edge? Because it's amazing. It makes me regret that I'm not including RTTE in this story :)

The next five days were amazing. Hiccup visited Toothless every day after training, always with a full basket of the uncooked, unsalted fish the dragon preferred. Toothless was quickly losing his remaining suspicion, and rapidly regaining his weight. He looked much healthier now, with his back flat with his wings and a renewed energy. The dragon never seemed able to keep still. He bounded everywhere he went, and wiggled like an overexcited puppy whenever anything caught his attention. Hiccup loved to watch him. Toothless no longer objected to Hiccup touching him, as long as he didn’t sneak up on the dragon. So he got the unique experience of petting a Night Fury. The dragon’s scales were as hard and smooth as an ocean-polished stone. But they were as hot as a boulder in the sun. With Berk’s chilly climate, the dragon was like a living furnace, pumping off heat and warming Hiccup’s cold fingers.

After several days of visiting Toothless, Hiccup had to go back to the village early for a campfire Gobber had planned as a ‘bonding session’. In other words, a ‘listen to Gobber talk’ session. Hiccup was reluctant to leave, but even without Gobber’s campfire, Toothless was asleep. Judging by his vertical pupils - and the fact that he was a _Night Fury_ \- he was nocturnal, and Hiccup was definitely messing with his sleep schedule. So he slipped out of the cove and started back towards the village. He felt like he was walking on air. Toothless was _incredible_. He was smart and kind and strong and brave and all Hiccup wanted to do was go back to him and just bask in his presence. But stupid Dragon Training was eating up his time. And it wasn’t helping him connect with the other teens like he had hoped. Once Hiccup had said goodbye to who he used to be, he had been - and still was -  eager to really embrace the Viking life and try to improve his situation. But the dragons were the kink in his plan. He had already known he wouldn’t be able to kill a dragon, but once he had befriended Toothless, he had known he wouldn’t even be able to raise a hand against them. Toothless may be unique in his non-violence, but Hiccup wasn’t able to see anything but soft green eyes every time he tried to take an axe to the dragons in the Dragon Arena. Obviously, the other teens couldn’t understand, so Hiccup’s failures and seemingly cowardliness just made him a bigger target for them. But he still held out hope that someday, with time, he could get the other teens to accept him.  

The other teens were already at the fire with Gobber. Hiccup didn’t interrupt. Instead, he just grabbed a fish to roast and let himself sink into thought as Gobber launched into the story of how he had lost his limbs. Hiccup had heard it many times before.

Hiccup didn’t know why Toothless had spent the past several years tormenting Berk. He clearly didn’t enjoy killing, since he had spared Hiccup so many times. But he was a Night Fury, and there were no other dragons around Berk like him. He was smart, much smarter than the dragons in the Dragon Arena, so maybe he was able to learn from Hiccup once he was forced to the ground? But that didn’t explain why he had spared Hiccup the first time. Maybe he -

“-downed dragon is a dead dragon.”

Hiccup’s attention snapped back at Gobber’s words. The Viking sounded nearly smug, which was pretty common. But his words sent a chill over Hiccup’s skin, and he felt his whole body freeze up. His fingers tightened around the stick holding his cooking fish. _A dead dragon. A dead dragon. Downed. Dead. Downed. Toothless._ Hiccup dropped his stick and bolted, ignoring the other teens and Gobber. They were so caught up in their conversation they probably didn’t notice him anyway. He went straight to the forge. He was nearly panicked at this point. Toothless was his _friend_. His only friend. He couldn’t die. He _couldn’t_. Hiccup wouldn’t let him.

He fumbled for his journal and hurriedly yanked it open it to the page that held the drawing of Toothless. The tailfin looked pretty simple. He quickly drew the missing fin back in, his mind already working through the construction of the prosthetic. He wished he knew more about how the fins actually worked. He had a vague idea just from the physics of it, but he had never seen them in action. He heated the forge. But when he collected some metal to begin forging the skeleton of the fin, he hesitated.

If Toothless regained his flight, he would leave. Hiccup would lose his new friend as quickly as he had gained him.

Hiccup shook his head. _Stop being selfish_. He told himself. _At least this way, he’ll be alive._ He forced the thoughts of Toothless leaving out of his mind, and got to work.

It took him all night. He was careful to make no mistakes that might cost the metal some structural integrity, and used thick, strong leather to coat the ribs of the fin. Once it was completed, Hiccup took one last look at the diagram, then at the fin, and nodded. He swung by the docks to grab some fresh fish for Toothless, grabbed the tailfin from where he had stashed it, and set off for the cove.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Toothless was napping when he heard the now-familiar sound of Hiccup’s heartbeat approaching. He stood up from his napping place and stretched out his wings with a sleepy yawn before trotting over to where the little Viking was dropping the basket of fish. Toothless was about to dig in to his meal when the stench of the snake-fish caught his nose.

He made _certain_ Hiccup knew exactly how big of an error bringing repulsive creature was. He wouldn’t even let the boy touch him until he’d wiped the worst of the stench off on his strange, detachable fur. Then Toothless eagerly dug into his food.

The fish was freshly killed, and Toothless hungrily devoured the meat. It would be better if he had killed the food himself, and knew exactly where it had come from. But the food didn’t smell bad, and he trusted Hiccup.  

He was so distracted by his meal that he didn’t keep track of Hiccup. As a result, he didn’t notice anything strange until he had finished the fish and had been about to locate the boy. Only then, did he realize there was a familiar weight on his tail. Toothless blinked in surprise, and flexed his fin. He couldn’t _feel_ his left fin. But the weight, it was there. There was no denying that.

Excitement built in the Dark Scaled’s chest. He slowly spread his wings. His ears were filled with buzzing, as if he has stuck his head into a hive of bees.

He leapt into the air.

He beat his wings hard, but no, despite the weight, the air shuddered under him and he was _falling falling falling -_  

Suddenly the air evened out and he was _flying flying flying,_ the skies were his again and Toothless’s world seemed to right itself on its axis. But then the air went off balance again. But differently. It was a familiar off balance, one he knew how to compensate for. So he banked sharply, until he found himself flying low over the pond of his prison again. Only then did his head clear enough to become aware of the familiar voice shouting in excitement from behind him. He looked back, and there was Hiccup, the foolish Viking, clinging to Toothless’s tail. The boy was as reckless as a hatchling. Didn’t he realize how dangerous it was? It would have taken just one wrong move, and Toothless would be responsible for the death of the one who had named him. The thought was unthinkable.

Toothless had to get the boy off his tail and back to the safety of the ground. So he twisted sharply, throwing the boy into the gentle grasp of the water. But the air instantly started to shudder under him. Toothless cried out in dismay and twisted to look at his tail. To his shock, there was a human-made contraption strapped to it. One that was currently flapping in the wind. Toothless crashed into the water, same as Hiccup had just done. He snorted in frustration and shook water out of his ears. But Hiccup whooped with excitement. It made sense. It was probably the first taste of the skies the little Viking had ever had. Pride welled in Toothless’s chest. _He_ gave Hiccup that. But Hiccup had certainly given him something as well. Toothless pulled his tail around to study it. The thing strapped to his tail was definitely Viking-made. It was shaped like his fin, but was light-brown and made from the dried skin of dead mammals, much like the coverings on Hiccup’s legs. Toothless listened to Hiccup talking about something called a saddle, and a rope that he would tie to the false-fin Toothless wore. Then he realized, and he was shocked it had taken him so long to understand. Maybe because it was unprecedented. No dragon had ever been able to return another’s flight. But Hiccup _could_. And he did, even if only momentarily. That’s why the boy had been on his tail. He was helping Toothless fly.

Toothless looked at the Viking. _His_ Viking. Nothing would happen to this amazing creature, Toothless vowed to himself. No matter what, Toothless would protect this little human. Hiccup was putting himself in danger to give Toothless the skies, and Toothless would _not_ allow anyone to take advantage of the kindness Hiccup offered the world.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hiccup felt like an idiot for not anticipating this. Of course Toothless couldn’t control the fin himself. Hiccup had been so focused on the construction of the fin, that he didn’t think of that. But he was selfishly excited about it. He had just wanted to help his new friend fly again, but now, Hiccup would get to be apart of that.

The next several weeks were spent learning what kind of rig would be best for them to fly with. Hiccup made a simple, but lovely saddle, which Toothless used to play with Hiccup. He had to spend nearly twenty minutes chasing the playful dragon around the cove until Toothless had suddenly turned and tackled Hiccup to the ground. The dragon was careful, and didn’t put any of his weight on Hiccup. He kept his claws carefully away from skin, and bit with his teeth retracted. They wrestled around in the dirt, both laughing like loons - and wasn’t _that_ an incredible discovery. Toothless could _laugh_ \- until the dragon finally let Hiccup put the saddle on. The saddle had taken a lot of thought. He had had to throw out every pre-existing idea of saddles he’d had, and think of something new. He had ended up with a thin leather pad that would rest on Toothless’s sturdy neck and shoulders, and iron stirrups for the dragon to put his front legs through and hold the saddle in place. There were two main straps. One was around Toothless’s neck, but it had taken some thought to redistribute the pressure so when Hiccup shifted, he wouldn’t choke Toothless. The other strap was connected to the Night Fury’s shoulder stirrups and the saddle, keeping everything together. Hiccup was pleased with the end result of the saddle, but the connection to the tailfin needed work. The rope was not a good way to control it. He couldn’t tell how open the fin was without looking back at it, and the rope just pulled on the corner of the fin, without giving Hiccup control over the entire thing. It also meant he had to have a hand on it at all times. So he got to work on something better. He carefully drew up the rig he had in mind, that would connect to the artificial tailfin through a series of cables and a control rod that would run down the dragon’s tail. It was great in theory, but would take a ton of work. Hiccup could only work on it at night, after Dragon Training and visiting Toothless, and when Gobber wasn’t there. Then there was actually learning how to use it.

During all this, he was also using the knowledge Toothless had given him in Dragon Training. As a result, he was doing even better than Astrid. And that meant that for the first time, Vikings, including the teens, actually _wanted_ to talk to him. It was everything he’d wanted. Whenever he sat at an empty table in the Great Hall, everyone, teens and adults alike, rushed to talk to him and ask what his secret was. Some even thought he was using some Southern techniques, but considering how bad he was in the beginning, most thought he was learning from Training. Which caused a lot of Vikings to puff out their chests and brag about how the Viking way of life could even make a warrior out of a Southerner. But Hiccup was hearing less and less of that kind of talk. The better he did in Training, the less the Vikings seemed to think of him as a Southerner. It should have been perfect. Other than Astrid, who seemed to be the only one who found it strange that he could become so skilled so fast, everyone suddenly _liked_ him. But instead of making him happy, he just felt fake in a way he never had on Berk before. They didn’t like him for _him_ . They liked him because of a lie. They thought he possessed skills he didn’t and thought that he would be able to fight dragons with them. There was also the constant fear that they would follow him back to Toothless, now that they were paying attention to him. Hiccup knew it would be smarter to do poorly in Dragon Training and keep his head down. But when he watched Astrid charge at a Deadly Nadder with her axe raised, and he knew he could prevent any injuries to the dragon, he couldn’t just _stand_ there.

It was only a day after that, when the new flight rig was half constructed, that he and Toothless were flying, low and slow over a field and as usual, they crashed. He had improved the tailfin so that rather than tugging on the corner of the fin, the rope went down the length of it and pulled its ribs, to open it more evenly. Didn’t stop them from going down though. Hiccup landed pretty smoothly on his feet, but before he could feel good about it, he became aware of the dragon-sized thrashing going on behind him. His heart got stuck in his throat as he sprinted over to Toothless, because he was hurt, he was hurt, oh god, Hiccup fucked up with the fin and now Toothless was hurt, he was -

Hiccup stopped and stared at the dragon. He was _not_ hurt. He was rolling around in the grass, groaning happily and splaying out his wings to get as much contact with the grass as possible. Hiccup pulled off a couples blades of the stuff to study it closer. It was stiff and unbending, snapping off in his hand rather than having to be ripped. It was yellow and smelled like garlic. He’d never seen anything quite like it. It seemed to affect Toothless similar to how catnip affected cats. He knew that catnip contained nepetalactone, which gives cats the high the plant was famous for. He wondered what chemical the strange grass - which he’s already named Dragon Nip - contained that did this to Toothless. He pocketed the grass to test on other dragons later. It took him most of the evening to convince Toothless to leave the field, and they had to walk back since Toothless was swaying drunkenly and Hiccup doubted he could fly.

The Dragon Nip _did_ affect other dragons, but differently. Where Toothless had become playful from it, the Gronkle’s eyes had dilated and it seemed become more sleepy than anything. It was _fascinating_. The scientist in Hiccup was jumping with excitement from it. But the glare from Astrid wilted his joy.

The rig was finished! It was finally finished! Hiccup could barely stand waiting though Dragon Training to test it that evening. He was more careful with testing the new rig than he was with the rope, both because it was harder to use and because it had a lot of small parts and would be harder to fix if it got damaged. So he and Toothless practiced low to the ground, with Toothless tied to a tree stump to keep him in one place. The Night Fury seemed as excited as Hiccup, but thankfully he seemed to understand and did not protest the slow pace. But despite their best efforts, the rope holding them in place snapped and sent them crashing. Thankfully, there was no damage to the rig, but the hook that held Hiccup in place was bent closed. Hiccup cursed. He had to wait until it was dark before sneaking Toothless into the village. He had never been more grateful for Toothless’s dark scales. But Toothless was a lot less concerned than Hiccup about staying hidden, and they were nearly caught by Astrid.

Time seemed to speed by for Hiccup, and the end of Dragon Training was quickly approaching.

He and Toothless were finally ready to try their first, real flight. Hiccup was almost as nervous as he was excited. But it was _amazing_.  He moved Toothless to the far side of the island to keep anyone from seeing them. As invisible as Toothless was in the dark, he stood out like a sore thumb in the daylight. Toothless could barely stand still by the time Hiccup hopped on his back. Hiccup’s heart was pounding with a mix of adrenaline and mind-numbing terror. He checked the tailfin, then the petal, then the control rod. Then checked them again. And once more. He rubbed his hands over his pant legs to dry them, and took a deep breath.

“Come on Toothless,” he murmured. “Let’s do this.”

He pressed down on the petal and it opened to position two. Toothless barked in excitement, and the dragon’s powerful muscles tensed. Hiccup crouched with the dragon, preparing. Toothless leapt from the ground with a deep sweep of his wings, but it wasn’t the wild take-off Hiccup had prepared for. Toothless seemed to be aware of the need to take it slow, and once again Hiccup was amazed at the intelligence if his dragon.

“Okay bud,” Hiccup called over the wind. “We’re going to take this niceeeeeee and slow.”

Hiccup switched the tailfin position, and Toothless banked deeply. The thinness of the saddle really was the trick in all this, and Hiccup was grateful for it. He could _feel_ Toothless’s muscles flex, and it helped him judge the dragon’s movements before Toothless executed them. So when Toothless began to drop into a dive, Hiccup was ready. They dove down, and the air rushed past Hiccup’s ears, deafening him. The speed stole the air from his lungs, or else he would be whooping. It was _incredible._ They dropped until they were skimming the water. The ocean splashed up to lick at his face, and Hiccup stared in astonishment at the huge sea stacks they were flying under. He had flown before of course. In airplanes, with the smoothest flight and best service in existence. It didn’t compare in the slightest. He could _feel_ the bite of the air, the rush of it all. In a plane, the flight doesn’t even feel real. You’re just a passenger. But now, perched on the shoulders of his best friend, Hiccup was _flying_.    

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Toothless roared along with Hiccup’s cheer when they started climbing back into the sky. It felt so _good_ to have air pushing under his wings again. He had been grounded for far too long. But even though their flight was slow and careful, Toothless didn’t think he’d ever enjoy a flight so much. Getting to share the joy of the sky with Hiccup was so much better than flying alone. His little Viking whooped in excitement and leaned with Toothless’s every move. Hiccup turned an already enjoyable activity into art. That was something the boy was prone to doing.

But suddenly the excitement in Hiccup’s voice turned to fear.

“My cheat sheet! _Stop!_ ” Hiccup cried.

Toothless obeyed immediately, letting his wings pause and his body slow to a float. But something was wrong. Toothless’s stomach sunk with horror when he felt the comforting weight of his Viking leave his shoulders. His head snapped up, and his horror-struck eyes met the identical expression in Hiccup’s.

Then they were falling.

Toothless and Hiccup both cried out in fear. Hiccup was giving Toothless instructions, telling him to turn, to come closer. Toothless _tried_ , but he was off-balance and when he tried to beat his wings it just sent him spinning out of control. He felt the impact on his tail and heard Hiccup’s cry of pain and despair tore through him. _I hurt him. I failed him, we’re going to die, and I hurt him._ He twisted to get his tail away from Hiccup’s face. And Hiccup, clever, brave little Hiccup, managed to drag himself back into the saddle. The air suddenly evened out again, and Hiccup threw himself back, helping Toothless fight the drag of the wind. But the danger was not gone. Toothless shrieked as they approached the sea-fangs. They were going too fast. Hiccup was still pulling back, he couldn’t handle these speeds while weaving through that maze, they were going to crash, they were -

Hiccup’s weight changed. Toothless heard the sound of the little piece of paper flying away, and suddenly Hiccup was crouching over Toothless’s shoulders. Toothless borrowed some of the boy’s courage, and prepared to face the sea’s fangs together.

It was incredible. It was like nothing Toothless had ever experienced before. He and Hiccup became _one_. They read each other as smoothly as a two-headed dragon and flew through the maze together.  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

What do you know? Toothless’s sweet disposition wasn’t so unique after all. Hiccup stared at the purring Terrible Terror he was petting and his perspective on dragons changed yet again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *           

Hiccup was so wrapped up with Toothless, that he didn’t even realize that it was nearly time for Stoick to come back until the Chief walked into his workroom. Hiccup frantically scrambled to keep him from seeing the drawings and diagrams over his desk without the Viking noticing what he was doing. Thank God he had left the saddle and flight rig in the cove with Toothless. He thought he was done for, but thankfully Stoick had just heard about how well Hiccup was doing in the ring and wanted to talk about it. But it still wasn’t good. Hiccup had managed to slip away every time someone had tried to talk to him about his ‘technique’ for fighting dragons, but Stoick was between him and the door, and there was no logical reason for why Hiccup wouldn’t want to talk about it. So he and Stoick just sat in awkward silence, with Stoick staring expectantly and Hiccup avoiding eye contact.

After several _long_ seconds of silence, Stock said, “Oh!” and reached for something he’d brought with him, out of Hiccup’s sight. Hiccup stared in confusion as Stoick pulled out a Viking helmet.

Stoick cleared his throat nervously. “Um, I made you this. To, keep you, ya know, safe. In the ring.” He offered it to Hiccup, but Hiccup just stared dumbly. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Vikings gave their children helmets. And yeah, Hiccup knew Stoick had some protective feelings towards him that might extend to being slightly paternal, but this was different from teaching Hiccup how to shave. A helmet was a statement. It was a way of publically saying that the child belongs to that Viking and that family. It was almost a heritage thing. All Viking families had helmets with the same basic design. They were all unique, true, but all of the helmets belonging to a family were similar enough to be obvious. And the helmet Stoick was offering was definitely close to the one the Chief wore. The horns were different, but both had round bumps that ran around the circumference of the helmet, and down the center of it. Hiccup swallowed nervously and raised his eyes to Stoick’s without moving his hands from where they were lying limp on his lap.

Stoick could only hold his eyes for a second before looking at the helmet. “Look, Hiccup. I know we haven’t always gotten along. But, this past year with you, it was  … well, it was nice. I’ve never had children. Valka was taken too soon for us to extend our family. I’ve never wanted to remarry. And yes, I’ve had Astrid, but we’ve never been closer than mentor and apprentice. She’ll be a fine Chieftess one day, but she still calls me sir and she has parents of her own. But you, you’ve breathed life back into my cold house, and given me something to look forward to at the end of the day. I’m not saying this just cause yer doing so well in Dragon Training. I just thought that, because of that, we had somethin’ to celebrate. And I understand if ya aren’t comfortable with this. I know ya lost yer family, and maybe you don’t want to -”   

Hiccup interrupted Stoick by snatching the helmet out of his hands. His own hands were shaking so hard he wasn’t sure he could manage to keep his grasp on the helmet. His throat felt tight, and he could feel the sheen of tears that matched Stoick’s. He kept his chin down until he could rub a hand quickly over his face, then gave Stoick a shaky smile.

  
Stoick’s own smile was like the sun breaking out of the clouds.    


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you EchoMoonstone for betaing this!

Toothless was awake and boredly pawing at the fish in the pond when he heard Hiccup’s heartbeat approaching. He perked up at the welcome sound and bounded over to the crack in the rocks where the little Viking usually emerged from. A couple minutes later Hiccup walked in. Toothless trotted excitedly around him, feeling a mixture of delight at the boy’s company and concern for why the little Viking had come so late. He never had before. Usually Hiccup would come in late afternoon and leave once it got dark. And he had already left for the day, after their flight, so why was he back now? Hiccup smiled at Toothless and reached out to scratch the Dark  Scaled’s chin, causing the dragon’s wings to go limp and his tongue to loll out.

“Hey bud. I know it’s late, I just wasn’t ready to go home yet. The Chief is back, did you know that?”

Toothless tipped his head to the side and studied Hiccup. He knew a ‘Chief’ was a Viking Alpha. But as far as he knew, the Vikings here liked their Alpha so he didn’t understand why the return of this ‘Chief’ would drive Hiccup away from his nest.

Hiccup sighed. “He thinks I’ve suddenly turned into a dragon fighting champion. And he’s _proud_ of me. He never has been before. He usually can barely tolerate me.”

Toothless snorted. Hiccup has spoken many times of the Vikings and their cruel words. Hiccup claimed it was because he wasn’t born to this Viking nest, but Toothless didn’t understand why that mattered. Hiccup was _amazing_. These Vikings should be grateful to be given the gift that was Hiccup. Toothless sure was.

Hiccup was still talking. “But now, he’s so _happy_. I mean, I know all the Vikings think I’ve suddenly gotten awesome at Dragon Training, and it sucks to lie to them. It makes me feel like I’m still the scheming Southerner who first arrived here, you know? But with Stoick, it’s so much worse. He gave me this.”

Now Hiccup held out the object he’d been carrying under his arm. Toothless sniffed it. It was a Viking helmet, and it smelled like metal and smoke. There was also an unfamiliar human scent Toothless noted away as belonging to the Viking Alpha who gave it to Hiccup.

Hiccup sighed. “I guess this is some kind of, Viking adoption? The way he was talking sure seemed to imply that. And based on what I’ve read, that’s how it seems. Normally, I’d be ecstatic about it, you know? But now, all I can think of is how mad he would be if he knew about you. And I _can’t_ tell him Toothless, I can’t! How am I supposed to, without getting you killed, myself probably exiled, and completely destroying Stoick?”

Toothless crooned in sympathy and nudged Hiccup’s shoulder. Family ties are important. Toothless barely could remember his own predecessors, but many dragons live in flocks made up of nest mates, and most humans seemed to do that as well.     

Hiccup scratched Toothless behind his jaw frills. Toothless leaned into the touch with a pleased purr.

“And now, thanks to you, you overgrown lizard,” Hiccup’s words were said with affection so Toothless just snorted at him “Thanks to you, I know the truth about the dragons. He won’t listen to me if I tell him. I already tried to tell him we didn’t need to fight the dragons once, right when I first got on Berk. Trust me bud, it didn’t go well. Of course, America’s situation was different. I still don’t know why the dragons here are raiding, but I know we don’t have to kill them.”  

Toothless warbled sadly. Part of Toothless wished Hiccup understood his language so he could tell him about the Queen. Another part of Toothless went cold at the thought. The little Viking took responsibility for everything, just like he was taking responsibility for the opinions of this Viking Alpha. Hiccup would feel a need to do something about the Queen, and the idea of Her laying Her hateful eyes on Hiccup made Toothless shudder with terror.

Hiccup sighed and sat down, shivering in the late night cold. Toothless circled around behind the boy and laid down, scooting in close so the little Viking could lean against him and borrow his heat. Hiccup turned to Toothless and burrowed into his neck, hiding his face like a hatchling. A mixture of despair and frustration was pouring off the boy. Toothless crooned soothingly and licked Hiccup’s fur away from his face. But rather than comforting him like he’d hoped, Hiccup sputtered and swatted at Toothless, wiping the saliva away. Toothless gave an offended bark and licked him again.

“No Toothless!” Hiccup cried. Toothless glanced at him in concern, but the boy was laughing. And he smelled amused and happy now, so Toothless shoved to his feet and knocked Hiccup over. Hiccup laughed and scrambled to his knees, but before he could get to his feet, Toothless tackled him. The Dark Scaled was careful not to put too much weight of Hiccup, but used just enough to keep him down. Then he licked him, from belly to the top of his head. Hiccup yelped and yanked one of Toothless’s ear plates. Now _Toothless_ yelped, and stumbled to the side to relieve the uncomfortable tug. Hiccup used this opportunity to scramble to his feet and prance back, grinning in that way Toothless had quickly come to realize anticipated trouble. Toothless crouched and growled in mock-anger. Once, this would have had Hiccup trembling with fear, but now the boy’s mischievous grin just widened and he leapt. Toothless could have blocked him easily, but he let Hiccup jump onto his back and wrap his front legs around Toothless’s neck. Toothless reared back and beat his wings to try to throw the little Viking off. But Hiccup just cackled like a madman and tightened his grip. Toothless dropped back to all fours and set off bucking across the cove. Hiccup wasn’t straddling Toothless like he did when they flew; Instead, he was sprawled over the dragon’s back with his feet kicking at Toothless’s hind legs. So he flopped wildly everywhere and it was like having a large leech stuck to the dragon. So Toothless waited until he was by the edge of the large pond, then reared back and fell backwards into the water. He immediately twisted so he wouldn't crush Hiccup, and let him get his head above water to suck in a breath. The Viking gave an insulted shout and slapped a large wave of water so it splashed over Toothless’s face. Toothless snorted it out of his nostrils and narrowed his eyes at Hiccup.

Hiccup gave the dragon a smug smile. “See? Not so fun to be on the other side of it. Now, I think you should -”

Toothless pounced, driving Hiccup back under the water. Toothless didn’t hold him there; He knew humans didn’t have lungs meant for flying at great heights and needed to breath more than he did. So Hiccup’s head immediately popped back above the surface. Toothless was sitting quietly, watching with wide, innocent eyes. _Now why’d you go and do something like that, silly?_ Hiccup glared at Toothless, and the war was on.

Toothless didn’t know how long they played. But after a while, they wore themselves out. Toothless was lazily circling the pond, with his wings and legs tucked in and his body swaying from side to side like a shark. Hiccup was holding his tail, and letting the dragon tow him around the pond. Toothless wasn’t wearing his flight harness, since Hiccup had taken it off for the night, so Hiccup didn’t have to deal with wet leather. So they had more time to just swim. Hiccup was silent, just enjoying the flow of the water. But eventually, the little Viking had to go back. Toothless was reluctant to let him go, since he was cold and wet and didn’t have an internal fire to keep him warm. But the Viking village wasn’t far, and Hiccup was shivering but didn’t seem to be dangerously cold. So Toothless settled in for the night and waited for Hiccup to come back the next day.

Even if Toothless couldn’t help Hiccup with his sire, at least by the time the boy had left, he’d had a bounce to his step.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The next day, Dragon Training couldn’t have gone worse. It was the last day of Training and Hiccup had fully intended on letting Astrid take down the dragon. But Stoick was there, cheering at the sidelines. And Hiccup couldn’t bare to let him down, not right after he’d been given the helmet. So he used the Dragon Nip to basically sedate the Gronkle. Astrid was furious, and was cursing like - well, like a Viking. But it got worse. Unsurprising, yet horrifically, Gothi selected Hiccup to kill the Monstrous Nightmare. Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut as cheers rang around the Arena. His eyes didn’t need to be open to know Astrid was giving him a glare of death. But worse, so much worse, was Stoick’s booming voice.

“That’s my boy!” Stoick cried.

Hiccup’s stomach twisted, but before he could decide if he was going to throw up he was suddenly yanked off the ground and planted on Fishleg’s shoulders. He tried to sound as enthusiastic as possible, but was sure he wasn’t pretending well. But the Vikings were so caught up in their excitement, that they couldn’t tell. Hiccup escaped as soon as possible, claiming he wanted time alone to train before the big day. He decided to leave, just for a day or two, just to give himself a little more time to come up with a plan. He didn’t know what else to do. He knew that under no circumstance could he kill that poor Nightmare. But he couldn’t see a way out of it. He just needed a little more time. So he grabbed his journal and a water skin, some fish for Toothless, and set off for the cove.

Toothless didn’t greet him as he walked in, which wasn’t unusual, since the dragon was often asleep with Hiccup arrived. But what _was_ unusual was that the Night Fury didn’t bounce over as soon as Hiccup spoke. He was hardly a heavy sleep. Hiccup sighed as he set down the basket of fish, hoping the dragon wasn’t going to make Hiccup chase him today. Normally, Hiccup loved playing with the dragon but he wasn’t in the mood tonight.

Just as he was about to call out again, he heard the familiar sound of a whetstone against metal. For the first time, Hiccup noticed the girl sitting on a boulder. He gasped and stumbled backwards.

“Astrid! Uh, uh, what, what, are you, doing here?” Hiccup was trying to be inconspicuous as he looked around the cove. He couldn’t see any blood, which meant Toothless must have hidden from the unfamiliar Viking rather than attacking. ' _Please Toothless,_ _stay where you are'_ Hiccup silently begged. Hiccup was so, so grateful he had put Toothless flight rig on when he had brought the dragon breakfast so that Astrid wouldn’t see the saddle lying around.

“I wanna know what’s going on,” Astrid announced as she tossed the whetstone aside and hopped off the rock. “No one just _gets_ as good as you did. _Especially_ you. So start talking.”

She advanced on Hiccup, spinning her axe threateningly in her hand. “Are you training with someone? It better not involve _this_.” She grabbed the shoulder of his safety harness, then pulled her hand back, rubbed her fingers together to she considered the oil on the leather.

Hiccup sputtered nervously back, not even sure what was coming out of his mouth. He just had to keep her distracted, keep her focused on him until he could get her out of the cove and away from Toothless.        

But then there was a familiar groan of a tree as Toothless leapt out of it. Astrid gasped, and immediately her complete focus was on that side of the cove. Panic ripped through Hiccup, and he frantically tried to get her attention back on him.

“You’re right, you’re right! I’ve been making, uh, _outfits!_ So, it’s time everyone knew, go ahead, drag me back here we go…”

He tried to encourage her by grabbing her hand and putting it on his chest, while at the same time he did the best he could to block her line of sight by standing directly in front of her. He _had_ to protect Toothless. He _had_ to. It was his fault Toothless was trapped in this cove, and it was his fault that Astrid was here. But he had to also protect Astrid. Even grounded, Toothless was far more dangerous than any of the dragons in the ring, and Toothless would almost definitely win that fight. But Astrid just grabbed his hand and twisted his wrist so it made an ominous cracking sound, and used that hold to push him to the ground, ignoring his pained protests.

Then she said, “That’s for the lies.”

She dropped the handle of her axe - _the axe he’d sharpened countless times_ \- so that it hit him in the soft part of his belly, knocking the breath out of him and making him gasp and curl up.

“ _That’s_ , for everything else.”

A furious, familiar snarl tore through the cove. Hiccup forced himself to his feet and looked in the same direction as Astrid.

And there was Toothless, glaring at Astrid. Astrid gasped and whirled, grabbing Hiccup and throwing him back to the ground. “Get down!” She cried, real fear creeping into her voice. She clearly knew exactly what kind of dragon they were looking at.

Toothless _screamed_ with rage, and Hiccup heard the familiar sound of his wings beating the air to help him reach Astrid quicker. Oh God, Toothless thought Astrid was attacking Hiccup. And in all fairness, she kind of was. But he would kill Astrid. And who knew how much damage Astrid would do before Toothless finished her off. He scrambled to his feet as Astrid raised her axe in preparation for the fight.

“ _No!”_ Hiccup shouted and tackled Astrid just as Toothless leapt over the boulder Astrid had been on and slammed into the ground right where she had been standing a second ago. He used her momentary shock to rip her axe from her hands and throw it aside. Then he immediately spun on Toothless and held out his hands.

“It’s okay,” he told his friend, trying to project as much calm into his voice as he could. Toothless reared onto his hind legs and shrieked with anger, his eyes still focused behind Hiccup, on Astrid.      

Hiccup held his other hand out at Astrid, to try to keep her in place. “It’s okay,” he told her.

Then he turned his attention completely on Toothless. “She’s a _friend_ ,” he said, stressing the last word. Toothless reluctantly lowered himself back down to all fours, and Hiccup turned back to Astrid.  

“You just scared him,” Hiccup explained, trying desperately to damage control. Toothless snarled darkly, shoving his nose under Hiccup’s restraining hands.

“ _I_ scared _him?!_ ” Astrid gasped. Her eyes were focused on Hiccup’s fingers, inches away from the Night Fury’s teeth. Her eyes flashed back to his face, staring in disbelief at the complete lack of fear there.

Her voice dropped an octave lower. “ _Who_ is _him?”_

Hiccup pulled his hands off Toothless’s face, and the dragon rose to his full height so that he towered over them, eyes still narrowed in threat.

“Uh, Astrid, Toothless. Toothless, Astrid.” Toothless decided to help by letting out a vicious, rattling hiss. Hiccup winced. Astrid slowly shook her head, mouth hanging open. Then she turned and ran toward Berk.

“Da - tada, we’re dead,” Hiccup announced. Toothless blew out an irritated snort and turned to trot back towards his favorite napping place, apparently too mad to even eat the fish Hiccup brought. But they weren’t done here. “Whoa whoa whoa - where do you think _you’re_ going?” He asked the dragon, hands on hips. Toothless growled at Hiccup as Hiccup trotted after his dragon.

“Toothless, we _have_ to go after her! Come on bud, if she gets back to the village she’ll bring every warrior back here! We’d have to run, and we’d _never_ be able to come back!” This didn’t seem to bother the dragon.

Hiccup stopped where he was, and his shoulders slumped. In a quiet voice he said, “ _Please_ Toothless.”

Toothless stopped. He was still for several seconds. Then he let out a gusty sigh and his wings drooped. Hiccup grinned, knowing he’d won. He quickly trotted back to his dragon and scratched his ear plates.

“Thanks, bud,” he said, projecting his relief and gratitude into the words. Toothless snorted and nosed at Hiccup’s sore wrist. “It’s fine,” Hiccup assured him. “Hardly hurts at all. Let’s go!” He hopped into the saddle and opened the tailfin. Toothless’s muscles bunched, and he took off in a hard vertical leap. Apparently he wanted relieve a little frustration. That was fine with Hiccup. They found Astrid quickly, almost a fourth of the way back to the village. God, she’s fast. Hiccup angled the fin, and Toothless dropped down low. The dragon snatched the girl off the ground just when she was about to jump off a log. Astrid's screams followed them all the way to the tall, unclimbable tree Hiccup decided would do the trick. Completely merciless and unsympathetic, Toothless tossed her on a branch before settling over the top of the tree, causing it to bend dangerously low.

“Hiccup!” Astrid screamed. “Get me _down_ from here!”

“You have to give me a chance to explain!” Hiccup begged. He had just accepted his life on Berk. He couldn’t lose it now.

“I’m not listening to _anything_ you have to say!” Astrid snarled the words, edging closer to the trunk of the tree.

“Then I won’t speak,” Hiccup promised, hands up. After all, nothing he said would change her mind. But he knew what would. “Just let me _show_ you.”

Astrid didn’t say anything.

“Please, Astrid,” he said, quiet now. Astrid groaned as she pulled herself up. She reached for the saddle. And ever-helpful-Toothless curled his lip at her and gave a low, dangerous snarl. Hiccup ignored his moody dragon and offered Astrid his hand. She slapped it away as she climbed on. But at least Toothless allowed it. She sat cautiously, arms out, careful not to touch an inch of Hiccup’s skin. And _that_ hurt, considering how much the Vikings touched everyone.

“Now get me down,” Astrid demanded, and despite her attempt at sounding fearless her voice was too high and it trembled slightly. Hiccup reminded himself that he had been scared when he’d first met Toothless as well and that her aggression wasn’t her fault.

So he reached down to give Toothless a calming pat and said, “Toothless, down. _Gently._ ” Toothless snorted angrily but his wings snapped out straight. “See? Nothing to be afraid of,” he soothed Astrid.

Then Toothless leapt straight into the air, into an astounding vertical take-off no other dragon was capable off. Hiccup gasped and quickly opened the fin to keep them in the air. “Toothless! What are you doing?” He demanded. Astrid was screaming wildly, and she grabbed Hiccup so tightly she pulled his hands off the saddle. If it wasn’t for the safety straps, all three of them would be falling.

“Bad dragon!” Hiccup scolded. Then, over his shoulder he said, “Haha, ha, he’s not usually like this...”

Astrid wasn’t listening. Instead her wide eyes were focused on the ocean below. Toothless dipped a wing, forcing Hiccup to angle the fin for him so they didn’t fall. “Oh no,” he moaned.

They plummeted hard and fast, and the slap of water against scales rang through the air as the ocean splashed up to lick at the riders.

“Toothless _what are you doing,_ we need her to like us!” Toothless ignored Hiccup. His wings beat hard, carrying them back up into the sky. Then he twisted both of his wings, and Hiccup knew what that meant. “And now, the spinning,” he sighed. Astrid’s screaming took on a new pitch as Toothless spun so hard and so tightly, it would make less hardy riders sick.

“Thank you for nothing, you useless reptile.” Hiccup complained. Toothless just twisted and dropped into another hard drive, still spinning.

From behind him, Astrid finally said something that wasn’t screaming. “Okay! Okay, I’m sorry! Just get me off of this thing!”

Yeah, like Hiccup had any control over what Toothless was doing. But apparently those words were what Toothless had been waiting for. Suddenly the Night Fury’s wings snapped out, and the wild flight turned into a gentle glide. Hiccup quickly glanced back to check on Astrid. Her face was buried in Hiccup’s shoulder, and her arms were clenched tight around his middle. For the first time, he realized how close they were and felt his cheeks heat. But he forced himself to focus. This wasn’t about his stupid crush. He turned his attention back to the air in front of him, and angled the fin as needed when Toothless lifted into a soft rise. He felt Astrid’s head lift, and for the first time, she looked around. Hiccup didn’t say a word. After all, he’d told her he wouldn’t. So he just let Toothless show her. They floated slowly through the clouds. Astrid reached out, with the wonder of a child, to trail her fingers through them. Hiccup smiled. It was really incredible to be able to _touch_ the clouds. He reached down to stroke Toothless’s head, as a silent thank you for giving him this amazing gift of flight. Toothless purred in response to his touch, and Astrid stared at the dragon in amazement. But she still didn’t say anything. Toothless took them above the clouds, and Astrid and Hiccup both stared at the sky in wonder. It didn’t matter how many times Hiccup saw it, he was still amazed by Berk’s sky. New York had so many bright lights, you couldn’t see the stars. But Berk had more than stars. The Northern Lights were so bright, and Hiccup never tired of them. But he’d never seen them this  _close_ before. It felt like he could touch them. Toothless brought them down again, and when they emerged from the clouds, there was Berk. Fires were lit all around, and it brought the whole village to life. Hiccup could see the fire at the forge, where Gobber must have been working. Hiccup remembered Stoick’s words from when he first arrived on the island. _‘_ _I’ve spent my whole life on Berk. Swam her waters, climbed her cliffs, explored her forests. Now, I watch over her, and my people. Seeing them all safe, and happy...it’s a good feeling.'_ Yeah, it is a good feeling. Hiccup smiled.

For the first time since Toothless decided to play nice, Astrid spoke. “Okay, I admit it. This is pretty cool. It’s _amazing_.” Hiccup glanced back to see Astrid give Toothless a soft smile. “ _He’s_ amazing.” She patted Toothless, and the dragon purred.

They were quiet for a couple of seconds. The Astrid spoke up again, as Toothless carried them away from the village. “So, what now?”

Hiccup sighed and lowered his head.  

“Hiccup, your final exam is _tomorrow_. You know you’re going to have to kill a -” She glanced and Toothless, and dropped her voice to a whisper. “ - _kill_ a dragon.”

Yeah, like Toothless couldn’t hear her. “Ugh, don’t remind me,” Hiccup muttered.

But before he could say anything else, suddenly every muscle in Toothless’s body went rigid.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Queen was calling in Her flock. Panic rippled through the dragon but he couldn’t stop himself. Her crooning song dragged the flock back every time, no matter how badly they wanted to run. The Dark Scaled found himself flying fast towards Her nest. He was quickly surrounded by other dragons who were bringing the Queen Her offerings. He didn’t have anything to give Her, but he never did. His job wasn’t to be a hunter. He was a Dark Scaled, and far too valuable to be a common drone like the rest of the flock. He wove through the maze, lead by Her song. He entered the Fire Mountain, and flew over the great pit that held the Queen before finding a spot to hide from her view. Fear was trembling through him, as it always did when She dragged him back to the nest. He was less than her. She was the mighty ruler of the Earth Fire that lived in the mountain, and they must obey. He was small, She was large. Even if he was afraid, he had to submit. He was just an Unnamed -

No.

He wasn’t Unnamed. Not anymore.

All at once, Toothless remember his riders. They were scared. And they should be. The Queen could kill all of them so very easily. Horror and self-hatred tore through Toothless. _He_ brought Hiccup here. And not just Hiccup, but the violent female called Astrid that Hiccup wanted for a mate.

A Rock-Eater had not brought a proper offering to the Queen, so his body became the offering. It was somehow worse to watch when the Queen didn’t have Her claws in his mind. He could feel and smell the horror that immediately poured off the Vikings he carried.

So could She.

Her great head emerge once again from her Earth Fire.

**WHO**

It was not a verbal question, but one that boomed in the mind of every dragon in the nest. Toothless withdrew farther behind the rock he was using to keep the Vikings out of sight. But it was not enough to hide from Her.

**INVADERS**

The words were a snarl, and Her rage ripped into the minds of every dragon. Terror bloomed in them all. She was angry, and when She was angry they were punished. His muscles wanted to freeze and accept his punishment, but -  

Hiccup kept Toothless’s mind safe from the Queen. Just that gentle touch and soft words, and Toothless snapped back to himself. He _had_ to protect his little Viking and Hiccup’s desired mate. He _had_ to. He bolted.

He had never been so grateful for Hiccup’s fast reflexes. His false-fin was aligned perfectly with his natural fin, and he had no trouble getting ahead of the other dragons who used the distraction Toothless caused to flee. The Queen’s rage tried to drag him back, but Hiccup’s presence was grounding and unbreakable. Toothless flew as fast as he could without endangering his riders, back to the safety of the cove.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *            

Hiccup’s mind was racing. A giant monster dragon that was forcing all the other dragons to feed it. God, it was like something out of a movie. Astrid seemed more excited than anything.

“Come on! Let’s find your dad!”

 _‘My dad?’_ Hiccup thought, startled. But he didn’t let himself dwell on it, not yet. Instead, he scrambled forward to grabbed Astrid’s wrist, get himself in front of her.

“ _No!_ No, Astrid you can’t! They’ll, they’ll kill Toothless! No, we have to think this through, carefully.”

Astrid stared at him in disbelief. “Hiccup, we just found the dragon’s _nest_. The thing my people have been looking for since Vikings first sailed here! Now you want to keep it a secret? What, to protect your _pet dragon?_ Are you serious?”

Hiccup thought about all the times Toothless spared him. He thought about the gift of the clouds the dragon gave him. He thought of the dragon’s silly smile, and of his gentleness when he played. He thought of his _friend_.

So he turned to Astrid and spoke without hesitation or doubt.

“Yes.”         

Astrid blinked at him, and was quiet for a long moment, apparently caught off guard.

Finally, she spoke. “Okay,” she said softly. “So what do you want to do?”

Hiccup’s voice was dull with exhaustion and misery. “Just, give me until tomorrow. I’ll figure something out."

Astrid nodded. After a moment of silence, she suddenly pulled back her fist and punched him, hard, in the arm. Hiccup yelped and gave her a shocked look.

“That’s for kidnapping me,” she said, voice hard.

Seriously? Hiccup turned to where Toothless was drinking from the pond, and made a frustrated gesture at him. Toothless just snorted and kept drinking. _I’ve already hashed it out with her_ , he seemed to say. _She’s your problem now_.

But then, Astrid grabbed him and yanked him close. And surprisingly, much more surprising than the punch, she _kissed_ him. On the cheek, but still. She _kissed_ him.

“That’s for - everything else,” Astrid said, her voice turning soft. Hiccup was struck uncharacteristically dumb. Astrid turned to run out of the cove, back to the village. Toothless leaned over Hiccup’s shoulder with a soft croon, looking from Astrid’s back to Hiccup’s face.

“What, what are you lookin’ at?” Hiccup demanded. Toothless innocently slid his gaze away.  


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys get a long chapter today, since I wanted to wrap up the movie. I also wanted to remind you, you can still vote on an aspect of this story if you haven't yet! I'll be watching those numbers until the Iron Man 1 storyline starts, so if you haven't voted yet, you still can! I'll toss the link up again, so you don't have to look back for it. [ https://www.poll-maker.com/poll947907x4544AEA2-40 ]. As always, thank you EchoMoonstone for betaing this!

Hiccup was staring into the ring. He had the helmet Stoick had given him tucked under his arm. The man in question was sitting in the Chief’s seat watching with eager, proud eyes. The Chief's speech had made a strange mix of pride, shame, determination, and dread churn in his belly.  “ _I never would have guessed that the skinny Southerner Bucket and Mulch brought me would become one of us.”_ Those damn words again. _“But no one is more surprised - or more proud - than I am.”_ That was all Hiccup wanted. For Stoick to be proud of him. But for killing dragons? But that wasn’t the worst part of the Chief’s speech. “ _Today, my boy becomes a Viking.”_ Hiccup had flinched hard at those words, and was glad he was out of sight from the Vikings. Only Astrid had been with him. She hadn’t said anything. She had just rubbed his arm soothingly. Hiccup sighed. He felt better now that Astrid knew. If he could change her mind, he must be able to change Stoick’s. After all, she was the Chief’s heir. She learned from him, grew up under his beliefs. And now she had promised Hiccup that she would protect Toothless if -

If Hiccup couldn’t.

When Gobber told him to, Hiccup walked out into the ring, helmet in place. Declaring him a Viking. Declaring him Stoick’s son. Viking roared with excitement and pride when Hiccup came into view. He couldn’t bring himself to raise his eyes. He didn’t want to see Gobber’s bright smile, couldn’t bring himself to face the idea of letting down the one person who had believed in him from the beginning. He didn’t want to see Bucket and Mulch, who pulled him off the raft and brought him to Berk. He didn’t want to see the wise eyes belonging to Gothi, who had saved him. He didn’t want to see all the other Vikings, whose names he’d learned over the long, cold months. None of them, save Astrid, had any idea what he was doing. He wondered if they could even wrap their heads around his plan. Vikings don’t lie, they don’t deceive. He wasn’t sure if this counted as deception. He hoped not. He worried that he might never be able to let go of some of his Southern traits. And some he didn’t want to let go of. He was grateful for his education and his intelligence. But he didn’t want to lie to the Vikings to try to get them to see things this way. So his plan was simple. He would just show them. If he had to trick them to get the opportunity to do so, hopefully they will understand when all's said and done.

Hiccup scooped up a shield to protect him if the Nightmare attacked immediately after being released. Remembering the Vikings watching, he grabbed a small knife as an afterthought. Then he took a deep breath, and steeled himself.

“I’m ready,” he announced.

A hush fell over the Vikings.

The heavy restraints holding the doors slowly creaked up.

And the doors blasted open, already on fire. The dragon roared, and lunged out. It leapt for the sky, but was intercepted by the metal net encasing the Arena. It didn’t even look at Hiccup until it realized it was trapped. Then it dropped back to the floor and stalked forward, growling low.

Now was his chance. He couldn’t screw this up. If the Nightmare was too distrustful after its time in the Arena, or if Hiccup did something wrong, if …

No.

No, he could do this. The dragon was stalking him, but it wasn’t attacking. It was giving him a chance. He just had to accept it. He dropped the knife and the shield, holding out his hands to the Nightmare so it could see that he was weaponless. Instantly, confused murmurs started up around the ring. Hiccup ignored them. He focused on soothing the dragon. It snorted sharply at him, clearly suspicious. He couldn’t blame it. It had been trapped for weeks, listening to the Viking teens beat up on the other dragons. And if it understood even half as much of the Viking words as Toothless did, then it clearly knew that nothing good was planned for it. It clearly knew the Vikings were the enemy.

Hiccup thought about the hate in Stoick’s eyes when he looked at a dragon. He thought about Toothless smiling at him. He thought of Gobber, an expert dragon killer. He remembered the Terrible Terror purring under his fingers. He thought of the dragon heads mounted on the walls of almost every Viking home. He thought of Toothless playing with him in the lake, so very careful not to hurt Hiccup.

And he threw his Viking helmet aside.

“ _I’m not one of them.”_

The dragon’s eyes softened. He heard the Chief call a stop to the fight, _but he was so close._

It was all going perfectly. The Nightmare had softened and was sniffing Hiccup’s fingers, probably curious of the Night Fury scent Hiccup carried. The Vikings were confused, and looking around at each other. But it all went wrong when Stoick lost his temper and brought his hammer down on the net over the Arena with an enraged bellow.

At the crack of iron on iron, the dragon’s pupils thinned with aggression and Hiccup barely managed to retract his hand before the Nightmare’s teeth snapped down right where his fingers had been. The dragon lunged and Hiccup bolted with a cry. There was no training it now. Now there was just surviving.

His mind was jumbled with terror, and he scrambled frantically to keep ahead of the dragon without getting hit by its fire. He didn’t know when Astrid got into the ring. But suddenly the dragon was chasing her, then Stoick was there and Astrid was in his arms and the Chief was reaching for Hiccup -

Fire blasted the wall right by Stoick, and the Chief curled around Astrid to protect her from the debris. Hiccup changed direction sharpy, and bolted for the other side of the Arena. But the Nightmare caught him. It pinned Hiccup beneath one of its hind legs, growling with its face inches from Hiccup’s.

Hiccup’s heart was pounding, fear was strangling him. He couldn’t even struggle. But there was  - something. A noise. A familiar, high pitched whistle. And Toothless blasted through the bars - bars that had imprisoned dragons that had blasted fire at, broken teeth on, ripped out claws all in a desperate bid for freedom - with a single blast.  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Toothless had felt fear chill his scales when he heard Hiccup’s cry, overshadowed by the furious shriek of a Fire Skin. Fear had given him strength that he had never felt before, and he had clawed his way out of the cove that had somehow changed from a prison to a sanctuary. Now he stood in front of the Fire Skin, teeth bared.

 _“Mine!”_ Toothless snarled, lunging. The Fire Skin leapt back, but his eyes were still flicking to Hiccup.

“ _Dangerous,”_ the Fire Skin hissed back. He tried to dash past Toothless, but Toothless was a Dark Scaled and his claws ripped deep furrows into other dragon’s scales.

 _“Mine!”_ Now Toothless screamed his claim, and drove the Fire Skin back. The Fire Skin’s eyes widened as he finally realized how deadly serious Toothless was. His body hunched down in submission, and he scooted away. Toothless snorted angrily. How _dare_ that other dragon try to hurt Hiccup. Hiccup, who was currently pushing Toothless’s nose, trying to get him to run. But Vikings were pouring into the pit that held dragons prisoner, and their body language was aggressive, hunting. Toothless would _not_ leave Hiccup alone with these dangerous Vikings. So he lunged, keeping Hiccup behind him and the Viking hunters’ attention on Toothless. He knocked them aside using his wings and tail. But when the Viking Alpha charged, weapon in hand, Toothless leapt to met him. The Alpha was strong, an excellent warrior, but he was no match for a Dark Scaled like Toothless. They rolled, and Toothless had him pinned under his claws. He opened his mouth and gathered gas into his throat. But then his Hiccup’s voice pierced through Toothless’s battle-focused thoughts, a desperate cry for Toothless to stop. And all at once, he recognized the Alpha’s scent, and remembered Hiccup’s words that night in the cove. This was Hiccup’s sire. And Toothless nearly killed him. Toothless immediately swallowed the gas, ignoring the burn it gave on its way down. He dropped his head, crooned a mournful apology to his little Viking.

Then the Viking warriors were there, leaping to their Alpha’s defense. One of them struck Toothless across the face, making him cry out. He was grabbed and yanked off the Viking Alpha, forced to the ground. He didn’t resist. This was Hiccup’s flock. He couldn’t hurt them. One of the Vikings leaned on his head, trying to keep Toothless from firing. He wasn’t going to. Vikings piled up on him, and all his instincts said to fight, to defend himself. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t hurt Hiccup’s flock. Hiccup, who was crying out his name, struggling to reach him. Toothless was filled with love for his little Viking. Even now, Hiccup was trying to defend Toothless from the Viking hunters. Hiccup’s violent female grabbed him and held him back, kept Hiccup away from Toothless. Toothless was grateful. There was no telling what these Vikings would do to Hiccup while in this rage. He saw a Viking offer a weapon to the Alpha. The Alpha looked at Toothless, then at Hiccup. He pushed the axe away. Toothless closed his eyes.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  

Stoick threw Hiccup into the dark Great Hall. Hiccup staggered, but managed to keep his balance. The room smelled like roasted boar, from the feast that was supposed to take place in celebration of Hiccup’s success in the ring.

“Chief …” Hiccup said nervously.

“We had a deal!” Stoick snarled back. He paced, back and forth, back and forth.

“I - I know we did but - it’s all so messed up. Just pl- _please_ , don’t hurt Toothless!”

Stoick whipped around, and for the first time in almost a year, Hiccup was _afraid_ of Stoick. He took a step back, but Stoick didn’t even seem to notice.

“The _dragon?!_ That’s what yer worried about? Not all the people you almost _killed?_ ”

“He was just _protecting_ me!” Wasn’t it obvious? “He-he’s not dangerous!”

Stoick leaned down, his face murderous. “They’ve killed _hundreds_ of us!”

“And we’ve killed thousands of them!”

Stoick made a disgusted noise, whirled around to continue his pacing. Hiccup’s stomach twisted. He knew about Stoick’s hatred for the dragons. He felt like an idiot for thinking he could change Stoick’s mind. Now he was afraid that Stoick would kill Toothless, and do God-knows-what to Hiccup.

Hiccup desperately tried to salvage the situation. “Look you - you don’t know what - there’s something else on their island Chief - it’s a dragon like you’ve never -”

“ _Their island?!_ ” Now Stoick’s voice dropped to a whisper, and he leaned down into Hiccup’s face. “So you’ve been to the _nest.”_

Hiccup tried to look away, nerves tightening his belly. “Uh, did I say nest?”

Now Stoick shouted, and Hiccup recoiled. But Stoick was beyond noticing. “How did you find it?!”

“I - I didn’t! _Toothless_ did! Only a - a dragon can find the nest!”

Stoick slowly straightened up, his eyes focused far away. Hiccup could practically _see_ the plan coming together in Stoick’s mind.

“No - no, Chief, please, you don’t know what you’re up against, it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen!”

Stoick pushed past Hiccup, started for the door.

“No. No!”

Stoick ignored him.

“No! Stoick! For once in your life, would you _please just listen to me!”_ Hiccup grabbed for Stoick’s arm. And for the first time, _ever_ , Stoick hit him.

Not directly, and not like Howard. He more shoved Hiccup, hard, using his elbow which was already in Hiccup’s chest from where he was clutching at the Chief’s arm. The breath was knocked out of Hiccup, and he hit the ground hard. His sleeves had fallen back when he instinctively flailed against the fall, and the rough stone tore the skin from his elbows. Stoick turned, slowly, and Hiccup whimpered, eyes squeezed shut. He pressed himself closer to the cold ground.

Unlike the first time Hiccup flinched from him, Stoick didn’t back off when he saw Hiccup’s fear. “You’ve sided with _them_. You’re not a Viking.”

Hiccup swallowed. He knew that. It hurt, but he knew that when he threw his helmet aside.

“You’re not one of us.”

 _That_ hurt. He’d said the same thing in the ring, but this - this was a rejection. Hiccup’s eyes widened as pain lanced through his chest. But Stoick didn’t even look apologetic for the harsh words. He turned and walked out.

Hiccup let out a ragged gasp, and tears immediately filled his eyes. He whined and rubbed his hands over his face. The tears overflowed and wet his hands. He sniffled and dug his nails into his temples. God, he was such a fuck-up. His father was right, about everything he’d ever said about Tony Stark. He was useless, an idiot, and all he did was destroy the people in his life. Now he was exiled - because he could read between the lines, and he knew what Stoick’s words meant - and all the warriors on Berk were sailing to their deaths, Toothless in tow. Snotlout was right, all those months ago.

The Vikings should have let Tony Stark die on that raft.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

An hour later, Hiccup was staring at the empty ocean. Hearing Toothless’s cries as he was hauled onto a ship, using that shitty fixed pulley system Hiccup had never fixed, had ripped what was left of his heart to shreds. But what could he do? The Vikings would never allow him near Toothless. The dragon was muzzled and chained, and couldn’t defend himself.

Astrid walked over to stand by him. Even though the teens had successfully completed Dragon Training, since they were still under sixteen they were considered too young to go to a battle like this. So all the teens, the young children, and the very old were left on Berk while all the able-bodied Vikings left to go fight a fight they had no idea they would lose.

“It’s a mess,” Astrid announced.

Hiccup said nothing.

Astrid took that as permission to continue. “You’ve lost your father -”

That goddamn word again. Hiccup swallowed.

“- your tribe -”

Were they ever his to begin with?

“- your best friend …”

Toothless.

He was the only real thing Hiccup had in all this. Hiccup never had to pretend with Toothless.

“Thank you, for summing that up,” Hiccup’s attempt at sarcasm was weak. He rubbed his left elbow. The sleeve was damp where the blood had soaked through the fabric.

Astrid didn’t say anything.

Hiccup thought about Toothless’s fear towards the Queen dragon he was sailing towards. He thought about Stoick’s pain and anger, caused by Hiccup.

“Why couldn’t I have killed that dragon when I found him in the woods.” The words were a pain-filled whisper. “It would have been better, for everyone.”

“Yep,” Astrid said, her voice cheerful. “The rest of us would have done it.” Now her voice turned soft, serious. “So why didn’t you?”

Hiccup said nothing.

“Why didn’t you?”

He scowled. “I dunno,” he muttered. “I couldn’t.”

“That’s not an answer.” That stupid fucking Viking bluntness.

“Why do you care?” He demanded. After all, she was Stoick’s heir. Even if she had seen the truth about Toothless, she should be avoiding him, protecting her position.

But she was a Viking, and no coward. So she persisted. “Because I want to remember what you say right now, in this moment.”

Hiccup’s temper crackled to life. “Oh for the love of - I was a coward. I was weak. I’m a stupid Southerner who was too soft-bellied to kill a dragon. I proved everything my father has ever said right, and I _wouldn’t_ kill a dragon!”

“You said wouldn’t that time.”

“Well- whatever! I wouldn’t! My father - my biological father -  always said I was a coward. And what do you know! I had a Night Fury gift-wrapped under my foot, and I wouldn’t kill him!”

Astrid was quiet for a moment. Hiccup turned back to the water, to avoid her eyes.

“He was wrong.” Her words were soft.

“You’re not a Southerner, not really, not anymore. You’re a better Viking than anyone else on this island. Hiccup, you were the first Viking to _ride_ a dragon.”

Hiccup blinked. He had fought so hard to be one of them. At first, he didn’t understand the Vikings and he resented them for keeping him from going home. But once he accepted that, even if they had allowed him to use modern technology, he wouldn’t have been able to get back, he began to open his eyes to the truth about the Vikings. The same way he opened his eyes to the truth about the dragons. And he wanted to belong to them, the way they belonged to each other. Maybe, they had accepted him. Maybe he had been a Viking all this time, from the moment they named him Hiccup, and he hadn’t realized. And now, he’d betrayed that trust by befriending a dragon. But they were wrong. Toothless was incredible, the best, the _only_ friend Hiccup had ever had. Until Astrid.

He turned back to her, but kept his eyes lowered. “I wouldn’t kill him because he looked as frightened as I was.”

Now he looked up, met Astrid’s gaze. “I looked at him, and I saw myself.”

Astrid watched him, as he looked back at the ground. “I bet he’s really frightened right now. So what are you going to do about that?”

Hiccup sniffed the stupid tears back. “Eh. Probably somethin’ stupid,” he muttered.

“Good,” she said. “But you’ve already done that.

Then Hiccup’s mind kicked into gear.

He looked up. “Then something crazy.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hiccup was standing in front of the dragon cages, debating which dragon would get him to Toothless the fastest, when the other teens arrived. He sputtered nervously when they all chattered excitedly into his face - dear Lord, was Ruffnut _flirting_ with him? Thankfully, Astrid pulled Ruff back and smiled at him.

“So. What is the plan?”

He grinned at her.

Hiccup didn’t believe in fate. But there was something profoundly _right_ about how perfectly the dragons in the cages matched up to the teens. The Monstrous Nightmare was a natural match for Snotlout, both of them vain and aggressive. The fat, sweet-eyed Gronkle took immediately to Fishlegs. The playful, two-headed Zippleback was perfect for the twins. And there was no better match than the Deadly Nadder and Astrid. The Nadder was beautiful and deadly, just like her new rider. Hiccup spent some time helping the teens bond with their new dragons. He hated wasting time, knowing Toothless was scared and the Vikings were sailing closer to their deaths with every passing second. But the dragons had to trust the Viking teens, and the teens had been beating up the dragons for weeks. And now the dragons had to trust the Vikings enough to fly to the Queen, who they were terrified of. So Hiccup spent two hours helping the teens bond with their dragons, and teaching them to fly. They took to it surprisingly fast. Vikings throw themselves wholeheartedly into everything they do, so the teens climbed onto their dragons without hesitation and flew without letting fear slow them down. But finally, _finally_ , Hiccup felt like they were ready.

Dragons, even dragons slow as a Gronkle, are much faster than ships. So they reached the nest much faster than ships would have. But with the time taken for Hiccup to get his head out of his ass and for the teens to train their dragons, the Vikings had had plenty of time to reach the nest. And now, the Queen was on the beach.

God. It was massive. Just one of its paws would fill the Dragon Arena. Its roar made the _mountain_ shake. Hiccup gave the teens jobs, which would hopefully keep the Queen busy without putting the teens in too much risk. He and Astrid flew the Nadder over the ships, and Toothless’s frightened cry caught Hiccup’s attention.

“There!” he called. Astrid steered her Nadder over the ship, and Hiccup jumped down. He directed Astrid to go assist the other teens, scared that they would lose control of their dragons or get caught by the Queen. Astrid left, and Hiccup turned back to Toothless. His poor dragon was muzzled, with a thick wood collar around his neck that was secured to a wood frame with heavy chains. Hiccup’s heart was pounding. The fire, the screams, the turbulent water, the burning ship, it was just like when _The Seeker_ went down. But he wouldn’t lose Toothless the way he lost his parents. He _wouldn’t._ Hiccup murmured reassurances as he dragged the muzzle off. Toothless’s eyes looked so relieved, like he just knew that everything would be okay now that Hiccup was there. Hiccup grabbed a piece of metal that had broken off the ship, and tried to break the joints in the chains holding Toothless. But before he could work the chains free, something _heavy_ hit the ship - the Queen’s tail? He and Toothless were plunged into the icy water. Toothless screamed and struggled, terrified. Hiccup steeled himself, forced back memories of another burning ship and cold water, and swam down to Toothless. Panic was beginning to overwhelm him. He yanked desperately on the chains, but he had nothing to use to break them. Toothless struggled, eyes desperate. Blackness was beginning to overwhelm his vision. His pulls on the chains weakened. Suddenly, he was yanked back and he heard Toothless’s frantic cry. Then he was out of the water, was gently laid onto a stone. He coughed up water, chest and eyes burning. He gasped desperately for air, and squinted at the blurry mass turning back to the water.

“Stoick?” He muttered. The Viking Chief dove back underwater. Hiccup didn’t understand what he was doing. There was a much bigger fight going on, and Toothless was going to drown. Why was Stoick concerned about Toothless right now?

His question was answered when Toothless exploded to the surface, Stoick in his claws. The Night Fury dropped the Chief roughly to the ground and landed gracefully, shaking water out of his ears. He barked impatiently at Hiccup. Hiccup grinned, relief flowing through him like a drug.

“You got it, bud,” he said, voice soft. He ran to Toothless’s side and hopped into the saddle, looking up at the Queen as he fastened his safety belts.

But then, a massive hand grabbed his forearm. “Hiccup!”

He froze, fear crawling through him. It was ridiculous. He was more afraid of that hand on his arm then he was of the giant dragon he was getting ready to fight. Toothless gave a low, threatening growl, but Stoick didn’t remove his hand.

But his words were not what Hiccup expected. “I’m sorry.”

Hiccup’s mind blanked, and he looked from Stoick’s hand to his face. The Chief’s eyes were tormented, twisted with shame and fear. Hiccup didn’t think he’d ever seen so much misery on the Chief’s face before, not even when he was remembering his wife, not even when he was giving funerals, not even when he held Pallab down.

“Yeah, me too,” Hiccup said softly. How couldn’t he be, looking at Stoick’s face, at all these Vikings facing down death?

“You don’t have to go up there,” Stoick said, his voice pleading. Hiccup knew what he was really saying. _Please don’t go up there_.

Hiccup gave him a soft, crooked smile. “We’re Vikings.” Because Astrid was right. Hiccup didn’t have to kill a dragon to be a Viking. He’d been one for a long time, without even realizing it. “It’s an occupational hazard.”

His words caused Stoick’s face to twist even further, and he put his free hand over Hiccup’s, so he was clutching him with both hands.

“I’m proud, to call you my son,” Stoick whispered.

Hiccup’s heart twisted. Stoick still considered Hiccup a son? He was willing to look past the dragons? God, Howard had been his father biologically and he certainly was never proud of him. Hiccup mentally shook that thought away. No, he had to stop comparing Stoick to Howard. They weren’t the same. Howard Stark had been the father of Tony Stark, a miserable kid with bright, camera-ready smiles and a bad attitude. But he wasn’t Tony Stark anymore. He was Hiccup, son of Stoick the Vast. He was a Viking who rode a Night Fury, he was a blacksmith, and he belonged to the Hairy Hooligan tribe.

He smiled at Stoick, warmth filling him. “Thanks, Chief,” he murmured. Stoick gave his hand one last squeeze, and stepped back. Hiccup and Toothless glanced at each other, and crouched as one. Toothless leapt into the air with a powerful sweep of his wings. They bulleted straight up, and circled around to gather some speed. The familiar, high-pitched scream of Toothless’s wings cutting through the air filled Hiccup’s ears, and he touched Toothless’s head, just behind the sensors between his ear plates in a non-verbal request for a plasma blast. Toothless fired, hitting the Queen’s jaw and knocking her head to the side and saving Astrid. Astrid fell, screaming. Toothless twisted in an elegant loop, and dropped down fast.

“Did you catch her?” Hiccup called, trying to see around Toothless without knocking the dragon off balance. Toothless dropped his head and crooned happily, so he must have her. Hiccup exhaled in relief and he and Toothless swept down low to drop her off. Hiccup focused on the Queen. Every dragon had a weakness, and he would find her’s and take her down. He would protect his tribe.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Toothless felt oddly unafraid. The Queen had frightened him for so long, but Hiccup’s comforting weight was planted on his shoulders, keeping him together. Together, they flew high and dove hard. Knocking the Queen onto Her side felt _good_. Hearing Her pain filled scream. Her rage was screaming in his head,but Hiccup’s presence kept him from feeling the fear She was trying to plant.

Then Her great wings spread, and She lifted into the air. For the first time, Toothless got a look at Her wing span. Her wings were small compared to Her body. She was not built to fly. Toothless felt a rush of admiration for his clever Hiccup. Toothless’s large wings and sleek body meant he fought best from the air. And the Queen fought best on the ground, using Her size to kill Her enemies. Toothless followed Hiccup’s directions and flew through the sea fangs jabbing out of the water, weaving just like they had on their first flight. The Vikings on the ground shouted and cheered encouragement, but neither Toothless nor Hiccup were listening.

 _I’m here_ Hiccup’s gentle touch said.

 _I’ll protect you_ Toothless’s bared teeth answered.

They didn’t need anything else.

The Queen smashed straight through the sea fangs without hesitation. Her rage screamed in his mind, but Toothless didn’t let fear overwhelm him. He focused on Hiccup’s weight on his shoulders and pushed the Queen back. Hiccup murmured his plan to Toothless, and again Toothless was reminded of why he followed his clever little Viking. Together, they soared high, the Vikings below calling out in amazement. Toothless let his dark scales hide him in the clouds, and flew in a wide circle as the Queen bellowed in frustration, craning Her neck to try to see him. But he was a Dark Scaled, and darkness was his element. She would never see him unless he revealed himself. Hiccup directed Toothless into a dive, and he fired a full-power blast into the skin of Her weak wings. She screamed in pain and rage and twisted awkwardly towards the direction the blast had come from. But Hiccup and Toothless were already on Her other side, firing into the opposite wing. She gave another frustrated roar and blew Her fire all around Her. Toothless banked sharply at Hiccup’s warning, but he heard the hiss of the fire catching his false-fin. Hiccup’s worry caused fear to twist through Toothless, but he trusted Hiccup to know what to do. So when Hiccup directed him down, Toothless didn’t hesitated. He dove through a hole they’d put in her wing. Hiccup shouted a challenge to the Queen, so Toothless screamed one of his own. The Queen’s eyes focused on him, and he and Hiccup flew through Her mouth to antagonize Her. She snapped Her teeth together, but he was already out of Her mouth and diving sharply. And She did exactly as Hiccup had predicted and followed them into the steep dive.

**SUBMIT**

Her bellow was right behind Toothless’s tail. He could feel Her breath rush along his body. He shuddered sharply, fear rippling through him. Hiccup called reassurances, and Toothless focused on his voice, blocking the furious Queen out.

“Hold, Toothless,” Hiccup murmured.

A moment passed.

Toothless’s heart beat.

“ _Now!_ ” Hiccup shouted.

Toothless twisted sharply, so he was looking Her right in the face. Her eyes narrowed, and She opened Her mouth wider in preparation to shoot.

Toothless snarled a wordless sound of hate. She had enslaved him, enslaved hundreds of other dragons. There were countless dragons dead by Viking paws, but they were all because of Her.

So he fired, straight into Her mouth.

She choked, chewing at the fire burning in the back of Her throat. Toothless twisted, struggling to get his wings under him. Hiccup leaned hard, and his weight helped Toothless get right side up again. He heard the Queen scream again, but this time it was _Her_ who was afraid. He snapped out his wings, and ducked away from Her burning mouth. He heard the impact, and sudden cut off of Her screams, and the sudden weight that fell away from his mind as Her presence vanished. She exploded as the fire in Her mouth was forced into Her furnace, something Toothless had never even _heard_ of happening before. But that was why his Hiccup was so clever.

But the danger was not past. Toothless’s wings beat hard, as he and Hiccup weaved through the spines on the Queen’s back. Toothless could feel the heat chasing after them. And he could _feel_ the sudden imbalance in the air as his false-fin fell away. Hiccup cried out in fear, as they approached the Queen’s club of a tail. Toothless twisted so his chest struck the tail instead of Hiccup’s vulnerable body. It knocked the breath out of him, sent him spinning. But that wasn’t the worst part, not by a long shot.

The worst part was the sudden disappearance of the weight on his shoulders. Toothless twisted, trying desperately to see his little Viking.

And there he was, falling into the fire. He wasn’t even screaming, or flailing his front legs, or doing any of the things Hiccup usually did when he was afraid. He just fell, watching Toothless. As if he was  _okay_ with dying.

Well, Toothless wasn’t okay with it. Not by a long shot. Hiccup didn’t have fire-proof scales to protect him, but Toothless did. So he twisted back down, and beat his wings hard to catch up with Hiccup. His boy was already entering the fire. Toothless didn’t have _time._ Panic, so much worse than the fear the Queen gave him, was strangling Toothless. He wouldn’t be _fast_ enough. Hiccup would burn before Toothless could get his wings around him. Desperation exploded, so Toothless did the only thing he could think of.

He opened his mouth, teeth exposed, and grabbed Hiccup’s back paw. Blood and sharp shards of bone burst into Toothless mouth. Hiccup _screamed_ , and it was wrong so wrong Hiccup’s blood should never be out of his body _but Toothless didn’t have a choice_. He pulled Hiccup back, into his wings. Hiccup was quiet now, but Toothless could still hear the fast beat of his heart so he was only unconscious. Toothless wrapped his wings as tight around Hiccup as he could, and braced them both.

The impact with the ground was jarring. Toothless’s head cracked hard off the hard ground, and the world went black.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Stoick had never felt so helpless as he did while watching Hiccup fight that massive dragon without so much as a knife in his hand. Just the Night Fury that Stoick still didn’t completely trust fighting at his back. But Hiccup was so _strong_. He and his Fury lit up the sky with their fire. Hiccup fought using that sharp intelligence that Stoick had been so convinced would get him killed. Now, it was the only thing that could save them all. Even a Night Fury didn’t stand a chance against that huge dragon by itself. But maybe together, they could do it.

Stoick held onto his hope. Even when he watched, helpless, as the boy who had somehow become a son to him fell, as the Fury chased after him into the fire. He held his breath and prayed to every God who might be listening to see the Night Fury fly out, Hiccup on its back. But neither one of them emerged. Once it became clear that they weren’t going to, Stoick tried to go and find him, fire be damned, but Gobber and Spitelout held him back. He fought them, cursing, but they held on with grim determination until the fire had died down. Then he finally broke away and ran into the ash-filled air. He called his son’s name, demanding an answer, pleading when demanding yielded no results.

He wasn’t sure how long he looked. The air was so thick with ash, he could have been running in circles for all he knew. He was coughing, eyes burning. But then he saw a dark lump on the ground. Something that didn’t belong.

“Hiccup,” he whispered. He stumbled forward, limbs suddenly heavy as if Gobber had tied an anvil to his each boots. But when he reach the lump that was the Night Fury, he pulled up sharply.

The saddle was empty. The prosthetic fin was gone.

Stoick’s knees gave out. He knelt there, pain the likes of which he hadn’t felt since losing Valka ripping through him. Gods, this was his fault. He was the one who refused to listen when Hiccup tried to explain. And Hiccup had been _afraid_ of him. Thankfully Stoick had apologized before Hiccup had gone to fight but it didn’t take away that fear. After all those months, Hiccup had finally lost his fear and Stoick had brought it right back.

“I did this.” Stoick wasn’t sure who he was whispering the words to. The Night Fury? The Gods? Hiccup’s spirit? Hiccup… “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

The Night Fury, who had opened its eyes while Stoick was still absorbing the loss of the boy who was his _son,_ suddenly rumbled and its eyes turned soft. Stoick blinked at it when it shifted.

Then it opened its wings, and there, clutched to the dragon’s breast, was Hiccup.

“ _Hiccup!”_ Stoick grabbed the boy, and the Night Fury let him go without a fight. Hiccup wasn’t moving, and he was splattered with blood. Stoick stroked his hair back, something Hiccup hated, but the boy didn’t complain or swat at Stoick’s hand or even open his eyes. Stoick ripped off his helmet and pressed his ear to Hiccup’s chest.

He held his breath.

_Thump-thump._

Stoick’s eyes widened. Hope was a painful thing.

_Thump-thump._

Stoick’s laugh was ragged. “He’s alive,” he said, eyes filling with tears of relief. “You brought him back alive!”

Cheers rose up behind him. He hadn’t even noticed his tribe’s approach. He had been talking to the dragon.

The Night Fury grumbled, eyes narrowed. _Of course he’s alive_ , the dragon seemed to say. _I love him too._ Stoick stared at it - _him_. Toothless. Hiccup was right. _Valka_ was right, all those years ago. They weren’t what he thought. This dragon protected Hiccup, literally flew into the fire for him.

Stoick reach out, laid a careful hand on the Night Fur - on _Toothless’s_ head. Toothless crooned, and dropped his head back to the ground in exhaustion.

“Thank you,” Stoick said, voice soft and sincere. “For saving my son.”

Stoick hadn’t noticed Gobber’s approach, but suddenly his old friend’s voice was right next to him. “Well, ya know,” Gobber said. “ _Most_ of ‘im.”

Stoick glared at him, but now, with the assurance of Hiccup’s life, he had to turn his attention to his injuries. Not a single Viking other than Hiccup had received anything more severe than bumps or bruises, thanks to Hiccup’s speedy arrival. So everyone’s attention was on the boy in question.

Stoick didn’t want to do this. But Hiccup’s left foot - there was no saving it. It was pulverized almost beyond recognition, just a sack of skin with pieces of bone sticking out and grinding on each other with a sound that made even Stoick’s stomach turn. The skin was split open and there were deep teeth marks in his ankle. Stoick wasn’t stupid, and he had seen a lot of dragon bites in his life. He could guess what Toothless had been forced to do to save Hiccup. But he had saved the boy, so he couldn’t blame the dragon. Now it was Stoick’s turn to do what must be done.    

He wished Gothi was there. But they couldn’t take Hiccup back like this, not without risking infection. Besides, Vikings knew how to handle an amputation. Stoick tied a strip of cloth just under Hiccup’s knee, grateful the boy wouldn’t lose his whole leg.With his knee intact, Hiccup should be able to regain almost full mobility once he heals. Someone stacked some wood that a dragon then lit, and Stoick saw Astrid place her axe into the flames to clean it. He gave her a silent nod of thanks. Someone unearthed a mostly clean shirt, which Gobber held at the ready. Stoick took the axe in his hands and rose to his feet. He directed several large Vikings to hold Toothless down. He knew the dragon wouldn’t like this. Toothless didn’t resist, still too exhausted. But he found some energy when Stoick raised the axe. Toothless screamed when the axe came down, wings pummeling the Vikings restraining him. Hiccup cried out as well, reacting to the pain even in his unconscious state. The foot came off with a single swing, and Gobber immediately swooped in to press the cloth to what was left of Hiccup’s leg. Stoick wanted to vomit. He had watched countless parents, siblings, friends, take the limbs of someone injured in a raid. But he had never removed the limb of someone he loved before. But he forced the reaction down, because he wasn’t done.

Once Hiccup was as stable as he was going to get, Astrid offered to fly him to Gothi on her dragon. Stoick handed the boy over, although he desperately wanted to keep him in his sight. But Hiccup came first, and Astrid would get him to Gothi much faster than Stoick would. So he let her go. But he wasn’t the only one upset by it. Toothless struggled to his feet and threw himself into the air after Astrid, crying out. He crashed back into the ground. His muscles visibly trembled with exhaustion, but he stood up and tried again, and again. Stoick tried to calm the dragon, but even after he grew too strained to keep trying to fly, he continued to cry out into the empty sky.

Stoick organized the repair of the ships. They used ships broken beyond saving to fix the others. The ride back was crammed, but everyone made it in one trip. Toothless rode on the same ship as Stoick, this time free of restraints. Hundreds of dragons followed them, including the teens on their dragons. Hiccup would have quite the surprise when he woke up. Stoick stared at the ocean, and urged the winds faster to take him to his son.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hiccup drifted. Pain was a constant presence. It chewed at him, tried to drag him back to the surface. He struggled to stay under. After a while, he slipped into a deeper sleep that not even the pain could follow into. His dreams were messy. Stoick with Howard’s face, shouting at him. Howard with Stoick’s face, cracking the flat of his hand over Hiccup’s face. Toothless, wrestling in the water with Hiccup. Astrid’s lips pressed to his cheek.

Hiccup woke up slowly. He was first aware of the warm, hard nose nudging his cheek. The he was aware of his dragon’s impatient barks. He blinked.

Toothless crooned happily, nuzzling Hiccup. “Hey Toothless,” Hiccup mumbled. He laughed when the dragon nudged more impatiently at him. “Hey bud!” Toothless snuffled happily, climbing further onto the bed.

And stepping straight onto Hiccup’s crotch. Hiccup howled with pain, and Toothless immediately jumped back with a worried whine. Only then did Hiccup realize where he was.

“Uh, I’m in my house.” He looked at Toothless, who was wiggling with excitement next to the bed. “ _You’re_ in my house.”

Toothless took off bounding across the room. Hiccup called after the dragon, but Toothless leapt up into the rafters, claws digging in and leaving deep scratches in the wood.

“Toothless!” Hiccup barked. Toothless dropped his head to look upside down at Hiccup, tipping his head like he didn’t understand what the problem was. Hiccup sighed, and abruptly realized something about the house was off. He blinked at the walls. He had thought that the sense of abnormality was just because his bed had been moved to the first floor, but now he realized that all the dragon heads that had adorned the wall were gone. And the straps of Toothless’s flight rig were laid out by the fire. He stared in disbelief, and pulled his blankets back to get out of bed and get a closer look. But then he saw his leg,

He stared at it, heart beginning to pound. Toothless dropped back to the ground, warbling in concern. Hiccup’s shoulders slumped, and he shifted to place his feet - _foot_ \- on the ground. His left foot was gone at mid-shin, and in its place was a piece of metal, the end folded over. He could see the springs in place, and knew it was far more complicated than any other Viking prosthetic on Berk. He swallowed and looked at Toothless. The dragon huffed at him. Hiccup took a deep breath. Toothless had survived losing his fin. Gobber lost two limbs and was still a good fighter and blacksmith. Hiccup would be fine. He would not be useless. He forced thoughts of Howard out of his mind. He grabbed the end post of the bed and pushed himself up, careful not to put any weight on his left leg. He took another deep breath. He took a cautious step, careful to put the bare minimum of his weight on his bad leg. Pain sparked, rippling up his leg. He inhaled and took a real step. White-hot pain raced up his spine and his vision blurred out. He cried out and crumbled. But instead of hitting a cold ground, hot scales pressed against his belly. Hiccup laid on Toothless’s head for a moment, gasping as he tried to get a handle on the pain. Toothless waited, then gently lifted Hiccup back up. Hiccup wrapped an arm around Toothless’s neck.

“Thanks bud,” he murmured.

Toothless crooned and helped Hiccup hobble to the door. Hiccup pulled the door open.

And was greeted with the open mouth of a roaring Nightmare. He gasped and slammed the door shut, adrenaline flooding him and pushing the pain back. There was a raid. Killing the Queen didn’t end the war. Hiccup sucked in a breath. He couldn’t let Toothless see the other dragons die at the hands of Vikings.

“Toothless, stay here,” Hiccup said, putting as much authority in his voice as he could manage. He pulled open the door again.

But there was no fire, no screams. Instead dragons were wandering everywhere, many of which had Vikings on their backs. The Vikings were calmly going about their business, not the least bit bothered by the dragons. The Nightmare he’d seen was Snotlout’s dragon, who was unpredictable at best. But the dragon was flying happily, not so much as glancing at the Vikings around him. Hiccup stumbled outside, most of the pain thankfully numbed by the adrenaline that was still rushing through him.

“I knew it,” he announced to no one. “I’m dead.”

A deep, familiar laugh caught his attention, and a heavy hand dropped onto his shoulder. “No, but ya gave it yer best shot.”

Hiccup looked up at Stoick, still disbelieving. The Chief gestured out at the Vikings. “So, what’d ya think?”

Before Hiccup could come up with an answer, someone cried, “Hey look, it’s Hiccup!”

Suddenly he was surrounded by Vikings. And they weren’t angry, or impatient. They were _happy_ to see him. Spitelout had a Terrible Terror clinging to his fur cape. Hiccup stared in disbelief.

Stoick was still talking. “Turns out all we needed was a little more of … _this.”_ He waved toward Hiccup.

“You just gestured to all of me,” Hiccup said, wide-eyed.

Stoick just smiled, and he looked so _happy._ Even happier and more proud than when he thought Hiccup was winning Dragon Training.  

The of course, Gobber had to ruin the moment. But Hiccup soon found himself holding a new flight rig designed for his new foot. Not only had Gobber made him a foot that would allow him to run and live a normal teenage life, once he heals, but he could _fly._ It actually made him a more natural part of Toothless, with the way their prosthetics fit together. And the fin, the fin had Berk’s crest on it. The Vikings wanted the world to know that Hiccup and Toothless belonged to _their_ tribe. Hiccup couldn’t wait any longer, and saddled up Toothless. Flying _hurt_ , hurt a lot, but not as much as walking since he wasn’t putting any weight on it. So he flew, whooping with the joy of being able to fly without hiding, and for the unexpected excitement of flying with the other teens.

He had never been so happy in his life. He had Toothless, he had the other teens, Astrid had _kissed him on the mouth_ , and Stoick was proud of him, this time for something Hiccup had actually done.

  
He was finally a Viking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that wraps up the first HTTYD movie. There's still some more stuff that has to happen before Tony goes back to the U.S., but we're getting there. Please let me know what you think!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the last chapter got quite the reaction! I don't think I've ever gotten so many comments on one chapter! And Jesus, we're at over 500 kudos! I wanted to put up a chapter when we hit that mark, like I have for every hundred, but I was really struggling with this chapter and just didn't have enough to post yet. Some people also had some questions and concerns, and I wanted to address them for everyone who might be wondering but didn't ask. I'm going to put them in the end notes, for people who really want to avoid all spoilers (although these are very minor). But if you have questions/concerns, please read the end notes on this chapter. Also, for people who left comments on the poll, I left a comment responding. I just wanted to reply to some questions and am NOT trying to sway the vote in any way. If I preferred one option over the other, I wouldn't have made the poll. I just wanted to make sure people fully understand what the options are. So, if you left a question there, please go read the response I left! And as always, thank you EchoMoonstone for betaing this!
> 
> EDIT: A commenter (sylwioszka) suggested that I add the names of the episodes that are in each chapter, which is a great idea that I should have thought of. So from now on, at the end notes I will add the name and episode number of any episodes that are written/referenced in each chapter. Thanks for the suggestion sylwioszka!

It probably wasn’t his best idea to fly with Toothless immediately after waking up. Once they landed, he found himself unable to put any weight on the leg without the pain causing him to nearly black out. His pant leg was drenched with blood, and it had soaked through the padding on the prosthetic. Stoick ended up carrying him to Gothi, ignoring Hiccup’s protests. The Vikings certainly didn’t seem to care that Hiccup had to be carried, and Hiccup had watched injured Vikings being carried plenty of times. But he still had enough stubborn pride from Howard that he felt completely mortified to be carried past his tribe in the arms of his Chief. Toothless of course, was completely unhelpful and just trotted along at Stoick’s side, giving Hiccup a gummy grin whenever Hiccup appealed to him for help.  

So that was how Hiccup found himself sitting on the same bed that he had woken up in after being rescued from the raft. Gothi took off his prosthetic, which caused Hiccup to sigh in relief. But then he got a look at the wound, which had his belly turning upside down. It wasn’t pretty. He could see the amputation was well done, but the wound was still fresh. Stitches held the wound closed, and a couple were popped so that blood oozed out. Hiccup shuddered. All relief from the removal of the prosthetic of course, was taken away the second Gothi put her hands on his leg - his stump, anyway. Hiccup was still shocked by the intensity of the pain. Of course, Vikings don’t have any kind of real painkillers, just herbs. But this was his first real injury since arriving on Berk, since his condition after the raft just required food and water. So for the first time, he got to watch Gothi work. It certainly wasn’t what he expected. Gothi pressed the pads of her fingers to his bloody leg, making him suck in a fast breath and tighten his grip on the bed. Then Gothi raised her fingers to her mouth and tasted the blood. Hiccup’s mouth dropped open and he stared blankly at her.

“What are you _doing_?” Hiccup demanded, shocked.

Stoick frowned at him. “She’s tastin’ for infection. She knows what she’s doin’.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “I don’t doubt it. But seriously? _Gross_.”

Gothi smacked him sharply over the head, making Hiccup duck his head and mutter a sheepish apology. She scowled at him, and grabbed a jar filled with a thick cream. She opened it and started spreading the paste on his wound. Hiccup sucked in a hard breath through his teeth and struggled to keep his composure. Stoick, who was standing on the far side of the room after being chased off by Gothi, gave him a reassuring smile but didn’t move, probably knowing Gothi would kick him out completely if he got in the way. She didn’t like people in her healing hut if they didn’t need to be there.

The cream smelled like cloves, so it was probably a mixture for disinfectant and preventing pain. It didn’t make the application of the herbs any easier. The coolness of the cream and probably the herbs was soothing, but it couldn’t completely ease the pain. Hiccup breathed deep through his nose and bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. Thankfully, it didn’t take long. Gothi nodded and wrapped his wound in fresh bandages. Hiccup cocked an eyebrow when she stood back up and moved closer to his face. He couldn’t help but give a startled curse when she suddenly grabbed his chin, which caused her to give him another smack with her free hand. He opened his mouth to apologize again in hopes of avoiding another smack, but she just yanked his mouth further open and stared in with great concentration. Hiccup froze, and slid his slightly panicked gaze towards Stoick without moving his head. Stoick just raised a bushy eyebrow at him. Sure, Hiccup had heard the rumors that Gothi could tell when someone was going to die by looking at their tongue, but he didn’t actually believe it. Or he didn’t think he did. But he had learned pretty early on not to assume when it came to Gothi. So he sat, frozen, until Gothi nodded and made an approving hum. She let go of his chin, and Hiccup gratefully closed his mouth and rubbed his lips. She hobbled to a nearby shelf and snatched a jar filled with thin, brown liquid and came back to hand it to Hiccup.

He frowned at it. “What, am I supposed to drink it?”

Gothi nodded, then used her staff to write in the dirt that was scattered over the floor for this exact purpose. Hiccup frowned, struggling to decipher her words. He could read the runes fluently at this point, but Gothi had terrible handwriting - staff writing - that made reading what she wrote a headache.

He struggled to piece the mess together. “I’m supposed to … uh … no that can’t be it …. I’m supposed to drink two barrels of this a day? Are you kiddi -”

Gothi smacked him sharply, and Hiccup winced and tried again. “Two sips a day?”

Now Gothi nodded in approval, and handed him a mug of water. Apparently he was supposed to start now. Hiccup sighed and opened the jar. He winced and barely held back a shudder at the smell that wafted out. Even with the restraint he showed, Gothi scowled threateningly. Hiccup hurriedly raised the jar, took a deep breath, and took two fast gulps. It was _bitter_. This time he couldn’t hold back the shudder, but thankfully Gothi didn’t seem to notice since she was cleaning his prosthetic and adding fresh padding. He quickly gulped down the water Gothi had given him to wash down the disgusting medicine. Once she was done with his new leg, Gothi handed it to Stoick. Hiccup gave a mental groan. Apparently he wouldn’t be walking back. Although that wasn’t that bad of a thought, considering how much his leg hurt.

Hiccup managed to convince Stoick to let him ride Toothless back instead of being carried, which at least left Hiccup with a little dignity. He still couldn’t wear his new prosthetic since he had burst some stitches, so Toothless would have to carry him back on foot. Ha. Foot. Hiccup sighed and let Stoick carry him to Toothless and carefully place him in the saddle. By the time he was seated, he was sweating and he trembled with pain.

“I’m fine,” he said, a little too sharply when Stoick opened his mouth. The Chief’s mouth snapped shut and he nodded, a little stiff. Hiccup sighed again. He was sighing a lot today. It had been an incredible day, but exhausting. He had woken up to Toothless at his bedside, Vikings riding dragons outside his door, a kiss from Astrid, and a proud smile from Stoick. Even with the terrifying lost of his leg, it was easily the most amazing day of his life. But now Hiccup was in pain and exhausted, and he just wanted to go to sleep. So he nudged Toothless with his knees - and wasn’t that a strange sensation, to apply pressure with his knee without the lower leg to support it - and the dragon set off at an easy walk that was slower and smoother than the Night Fury’s usual bouncing trot. Even Toothless seemed to be handling Hiccup with kid gloves. Normally that would probably bother Hiccup, but now he was just grateful for the gentle gait. Then again, maybe the dragon was just waiting for Stoick. The Chief walked next to them, a hand resting on Toothless’s shoulder. The two of them seemed to have come to an understanding. Hiccup was grateful. He wasn’t sure he could deal with them screaming at each other right now.

Upon arriving at the house, Stoick held the door for Toothless and let the dragon inside. The Chief got Hiccup settled back in bed, with his fur wrapped around him and Toothless curled next to the bed, after Stoick had removed his flight rig.

Stoick closed up the windows and built up the fire, then slipped out with quiet “Good night, lad.”

Normally Hiccup probably would have teased him about how it wasn’t actually night, but he was too tired so he just mumbled something unintelligible back and snuggled deeper into the fur, slipping a hand down to stroke Toothless’s back fins. The dragon purred back, and the sound had a sleepy smile tugging Hiccup's lips up. He readjusted a little to take the weight of the fur off his bad leg, and for the first time he noticed the helmet on the post of the bed. For a second he felt like his heart stopped. Toothless raised his head and warbled in concern. Hiccup stretched a little to reach the helmet. _His_ helmet. He had thought Stoick had probably thrown it off a cliff or something after the mess in the Arena. He ran his fingers over the bumps that ran down the middle of the horns. Toothless sat up and pushed his nose under Hiccup’s elbow. He smiled and scratched behind the dragon’s jaw frills. Apparently that convinced Toothless that Hiccup wasn’t in pain - well, _more_ pain - or upset, since the dragon laid back down with a sigh. Hiccup would have to see about getting some kind of bed for the dragon, since Toothless usually heated the ground before he slept. He imagined there was only so long Toothless would go before he got annoyed enough with the cold ground that he would end up lighting the house on fire by accident. Hiccup pulled his helmet under his fur blanket and cuddled close to it, ignoring the horns poking him, and smiled as he fell asleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The next two weeks passed quietly, if slightly tense. Three hundred years of war couldn’t be forgotten just like that, and the dragons and Vikings were still cautious of each other. But everyone was trying. Well, almost everyone. There were still a couple Vikings who protested, quite loudly, the dragons’ presence on Berk. Most notably was Mildew, an old man who lived on the outskirts of Berk who never failed to curl his lip at Hiccup and complain about the presence of a Southerner on Berk. Hiccup had never directly spoken to the man, since he didn’t want anything to do with him. But there were times where Hiccup saw him and Stoick arguing, and every time Mildew would stomp off in anger and Stoick would have a dark scowl on his face for the rest of the day. Hiccup never asked him about it, afraid of rocking the boat. But now, the man seemed to be leading the few Vikings who wanted the dragons either gone or caged. But the Vikings seemed to have hit the pause button while they waited for Hiccup to heal and tell them what to do with their new roommates. And heal Hiccup did. He found out that Night Fury saliva had _incredible_ healing properties. He had wondered if the dragon healed fast, after seeing how quickly his wounds from the bola healed, but he got a first-hand experience of it. He had been shocked and pretty angry the day after Gothi had fixed up his leg for the second time, when he woke up to Toothless ripping off his bandages with his teeth. The dragon had pinned the cursing Hiccup with a paw, and started _licking_ his wound. Hiccup had struggled and cursed as involuntary tears of pain ran down his cheeks. But Toothless ignored him. After Toothless had stopped, he had crooned soothingly and tried to nudge Hiccup’s face, but Hiccup shoved him away. He had been afraid of infection from Toothless’s saliva, but when he told Stoick he found out that Toothless had been licking his leg even before Hiccup woke up, and it was how his leg had healed to the point that he could wear the prosthetic just days after losing his leg. And sure enough, within an hour, the pain was almost numb. And it healed at an astonishing pace. It took longer to heal than the lacerations Toothless had gotten from the bola, since it was a more severe injury, but within two weeks Hiccup could limp around the village without help.

Walking wasn’t as easy to adapt to as flying with the new leg, and not just because of the pain. It turned out that walking while unable to feel the ground beneath his foot was extremely difficult. He couldn’t feel a rock under his boot, and his foot wouldn’t fold naturally over it. Instead, he would suddenly be standing on unbalanced ground when the metal leg landed on the rock, and he would end up falling over it. Thankfully, Toothless was always at his side and he never failed to catch him.

Despite the difficulties, as soon as he was able he was out in the village, working to bring the dragons and the Vikings together. The tension was rising, as dragons played in the village and accidentally lit roofs on fire, and Terrors stole meals, and Nightmares stole entire baskets of fish, and Nadders' spines ripped holes in clothing drying on lines.

It took some convincing to get Stoick to allow Hiccup to take responsibility for the dragons, and he really hadn’t been prepared for how huge of a task it truly was. Hiccup was far from knowing everything about dragons, and even he couldn’t train all of Berk’s dragons. The offer of help from the teens was unexpected, but thrilling. It was amazing. Snotlout was still Snotlout, but he hadn’t called Hiccup Useless once since he killed the Queen that the Vikings had named, in true Viking form, the Red Death. And Fishlegs was great to talk to, now that he wasn’t afraid of the social repercussions of speaking to Hiccup. He was quite smart, and Hiccup loved talking dragons with him. They would get going, and the rest of the teens would groan in unison and leave them be. Hiccup was still holding his breath and waiting for it all to fall apart again, but so far it hadn’t. It felt like Hiccup had finally found his nitch.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  

For Toothless, it was strange. He had spent most of his life fighting for the Queen, and now all the sudden he was living amongst the very creatures he used to fight. He certainly wasn’t alone in his unease, and he often had to calm other dragons. It helped sooth them that Hiccup was on his feet, since they all knew and recognized that Toothless and Hiccup had defeated the Queen together. Therefore, Hiccup was part of the flock as if he were a dragon as well, and the entire flock felt indebted to both Hiccup and Toothless for their freedom. So now that they were helping mend the rift between the Vikings and the dragons, the flock was settling down. Toothless was still unsure of many of these Vikings, but he trusted Hiccup. And Hiccup’s sire had apologized, so Toothless would give him another chance. The Viking hatchlings were helping Hiccup now, so Toothless thought that was their way of apologizing. Hiccup didn’t seem to hold a grudge. He worked hard to train the Vikings and help everyone get along. And Toothless was by his side through all of it. By far, that was the best thing about this new peace. Now he never had to be away from Hiccup. He followed Hiccup around the Viking nest, and if the boy settled to do something, Toothless would find things to do to occupy himself while he waited. But he never strayed far.

And there were certainly threats in the Viking nest. There was the old Viking who smelled of sheep and whose body spoke of _danger stalking plotting_ and Toothless didn’t like him getting too close to his Hiccup.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mildew nearly destroyed all of Hiccup’s work between the dragons and the Vikings. But in the end, Stoick surprised Hiccup yet again by giving him the Academy.

He had never expected to be given a _leadership_ position in Berk. Sure, he was the best trainer and rider, but Astrid was the heir. But she just grinned at Hiccup when Stoick told him that he would be leading the newly named Dragon Academy. And the crest of the Academy was Toothless, with his red tailfin. Now, Hiccup would really have the traction needed to train the dragons. He couldn’t wait to get started.

Days flew past, and activity in the village had never been higher. It was a constant battle to keep the dragons on the Vikings’ good side, and Mildew was not helping. But it was amazing. Hiccup no longer had to put so much time in the forge, since weapons weren’t being gone through so fast. He still forged of course, since Toothless’s speed and power in flight meant his gear had to be constantly repaired, as well as backups prepared. And he had a few of his own projects going. Most notably and excitingly was a shield he was planning. It was still in the early stages and not ready to be made, but it would have multiple uses and would be an invaluable tool. It wasn’t such as easy transition for Gobber. The man smithed weapons and killed dragons, and suddenly neither one of those skills were necessary anymore. But thanks to the Snotlout’s Nightmare that he named Hookfang, Gobber found his new purpose fixing dragon teeth.

The day after the mess with Gobber, Hiccup was in the cove with Toothless. The sun was almost completely down, and Hiccup and Toothless had already completed their nightly ride. But Hiccup still liked to go back to the calmness of the cove, and just spent some time with Toothless away from the chaos of the village. Toothless loved it. Hiccup had already taken off Toothless’s flight rig and the dragon was happily chasing the fish in the pond while Hiccup looked on. The now-familiar sound of dragon wings caught his attention, and Hiccup looked up just as Astrid landed the Nadder she named Stormfly in the cove.

Surprised, but pleased he stood up to walk over as she dismounted. “Evening m’lady. What are you doing out here?”

She smiled at him. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Toothless barked happily and bounded out of the pond, splashing both Hiccup and Astrid with icy water. They both yelped and pushed at the excited Night Fury who wanted to greet the new arrival, so he huffed at them and raced to Stormfly, where the two dragons bobbed their heads and made dragon sounds at each other.

Hiccup rubbed some cold water off his face with his shirt tail. “Talk to me about what?”

Astrid’s face turned serious. “I was talking to Stoick. He’s worried about how the rest of the Archipelago is going to handle our new relationship with the dragons. We weren’t the only village having problems with them. It was just worse here because of how close we were to the nest.”

Hiccup frowned. “Yeah, I’ve thought of that. I’m not sure what we can do though. We just have to try to show them. If they won’t listen, then it’s their loss.”

Astrid shook her head. “You haven’t met many Vikings outside of Berk, Hiccup. I doubt that many tribes will just shrug this off. Some might say we have betrayed all Vikings and are teaming up with the dragons against them. And there are some tribes that _really_ shouldn’t learn how to train dragons, and they will want to know how.”

Hiccup nodded. “Yeah, I’ve read about some of the more shaky allegiances. The Outcasts, for one. But again, I’m not sure what you want to do about it. We have the dragons now. If they try to take them by force, we can fend them off.”

Astrid shook her head. “That’s not what Stoick and I were worried about. We’re worried about _you_.”

Hiccup blinked blankly. “Me? I’m not following.”

Astrid sighed and gestured to Stormfly. The dragon broke away from her game of tug-a-war with Toothless to walk over to her rider. “It won’t take long for word to get out in the Archipelago that you ended the war, and that you’re the main trainer.”

Hiccup opened his mouth to protest that he wasn’t the _main trainer_ but Astrid gave him a sharp look and kept going. “You need to be able to defend yourself.”

Hiccup scowled. He had thought they were _past_ this. “I have Toothless.”

Astrid rolled her eyes. “Yes, but what if you get separated? What if he can’t fight for you for some reason? Shouldn’t you learn at least the basics of fighting so all the responsibility of keeping you safe isn’t on him?”

Now Hiccup’s mouth snapped shut. He hadn’t thought of that. But Toothless has always protected him, and Astrid’s right, it’s _not_ fair. Sure, Toothless had a protective nature and seemed to enjoy taking care of Hiccup. But if something did happen? Hiccup owed Toothless the peace of mind of knowing Hiccup at least had a chance at defending himself. And if Toothless was captured, Hiccup had to be able to fight himself out of a bad situation to help his dragon.

Hiccup ducked his head and picked at his fingernails. “Stoick’s already tried to teach me to fight. I could barely lift an axe. And the only reason I did well in Dragon Training was because I was using the dragons’ weaknesses.”

Astrid nodded and reached into Stormfly’s saddlebag to pull out two short, blunt swords. “Yes, because he was trying to teach you to fight like a full sized Viking. So this time, _I’m_ going to teach you. The women are taught differently, since we're smaller than the men, and faster. So you’re going to learn how I learned.”

Hiccup couldn’t help the small flare of insult. “You’re going to teach me to fight like a _girl?_ ”

Astrid’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “What’s wrong with fighting like a girl?”

Hiccup gulped and tried to backpedal. “Uh, nothing! I mean, obviously, girls are awesome, and-”

“You realize that I’m the best warrior on Berk?”

“Yeah of course! I didn’t mean -”

“And I have grown up beating up on Snotlout?”

“Yeah and - and that’s awesome! _You’re_ awesome, and -”

“Good, then there should be no objections.”

Hiccup blinked, not entirely sure what had just happened. But he nodded, not wanting to risk angering Astrid again. She handed him one of the practice swords, and he held it awkwardly. Astrid immediately grabbed his hand to readjust his grip, and he felt his face heat. This was getting ridiculous. She was helping him learn to fight, and here he was getting all hot under the collar. He tried to focus.

Astrid stepped back once she was happy with how he held the sword. It was much smaller and lighter than most Viking weapons. Hiccup found he didn’t have trouble holding it in one hand. But he didn’t understand how it would be useful against the heavy weapons the Vikings used. Even Astrid typically fought with an axe.

He looked up to check on the dragons, and found they were both still, watching their riders closely. Hiccup wasn’t sure if they were just curious or if they thought they were going to have to intervene.

Not wanting to take the chance, Hiccup called out a reassurance to Toothless. “It’s okay, bud. Astrid’s just going to show me some stuff.”

Astrid took the hint and did the same. “Easy, girl. Go back to playing with Toothless, everything is fine.”

The dragons relaxed, but continued to watch.

Astrid worked Hiccup _hard_. By the time she decided they were done for the night, it was pitch black in the cove and Hiccup’s whole body hurt. He was still unsure about learning to fight, since he was trying to encourage _peace_ on Berk, but he liked spending time with Astrid. And if there was anything Astrid enjoyed doing, it was fighting. So he was probably going to get to spend quite a bit of time with her in the near future.

Hiccup and Astrid flew back the the village in silence. It was a short flight, and they split apart with a wave to go to their respective houses. Toothless flew straight into Hiccup’s room through the large window and landed with a light _thump_. Hiccup groaned as he dismounted. His body ached, and his leg burned. Astrid hadn’t used the weakness to take him down, but he knew that she would eventually. He had watched enough Vikings trip each other using their peg legs to know that it wasn’t looked down on. And if Astrid was right and Hiccup would have to eventually be able to fight for himself, he would need to be ready for a move like that. But he was still healing and was grateful that Astrid hadn’t targeted his painful leg. But still, getting knocked down and having to jump around on it meant it was more painful than usual.

Hiccup drank his nightly dose of disgusting medicine, washed it down with some water, and sat at his desk. He was still writing in his journal, although he had stopped recording Viking behavior. It was no longer necessary. He had completely filled the one Gothi had given him and didn’t have much space before he would have to replace his current one. But he kept all of his journals. His old one was still on his desk. He was working on his design for his shield. He wanted it to have multiple tools and weapons. One of them would be a bola launcher. But he was putting _much_ more time into planning it out, to make sure it didn’t do the damage that the one he used on Toothless had done.

He was just sketching out the design for the gears when he heard the sound of Stoick’s heavy boots thumping up the steps. Hiccup glanced up as the Chief entered.

“Evenin’ Hiccup,” Stoick greeted. He reached down to pat Toothless where the dragon was curled up on his stone bed that had taken half a dozen Vikings to get into the room.

“Hey Chief,” Hiccup answered, closing his journal.

Stoick rubbed his neck, looking uncomfortable, which never meant anything good. “Did Astrid find ya?”

Oh, so that's what this was about. Hiccup scowled. Sure, he was recognized by the Vikings as the best dragon rider, and they no longer thought he was a coward, but he still hated them talking about his physical incapabilities.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “She’s teaching me some basic stuff.”

“Good, good.” Stoick looked genuinely relieved at this. “I’m not sayin’ ya need to become an expert swordsman, lad. But Vikings need to fight. And if we aren’t fightin’ dragons, we’re fightin’ each other. I just want to be sure you don’t get caught in it. Especially if yer gonna be runnin’ around on that dragon of yers.”                                

“Yeah, I get it,” Hiccup mumbled. And he did. He understood the reasoning, but it didn’t make it any less humiliating. He was so weak that he had to be taught to fight as if he were a _girl._ With blades that were even smaller than the women used. He was grateful that Astrid had come to him with it in the privacy of the cove. It would have been so much worse if Snotlout and the twins had seen it.

Stoick nodded. “I’m bringing this up now lad, because it’s comin’ time for us to re-negotiate our treaty with the Berserker tribe. Oswald the Agreeable is a good man, and I’m not concerned about him. But I don’t want to tell them about our peace with the dragons. Not until the dragons are better trained and Berk has settled down with them a little.”

Hiccup nodded. It made sense. The teens were already skilled riders, but the rest of Berk was still adjusting to the dragons. They wouldn’t be prepared to fight with them, or for them. And the dragons on Berk still tended to be a little unpredictable.

Stoick continued on. “Oswald may be a good man, but that son of his is unstable. And from what Oswald’s letter said, Dagur is _very_ interested in you. You won’t be able to have Toothless with you while they’re here, so I’d rather you have some training just in case Dagur’s interest isn’t friendly.”

Hiccup sighed. Someone who was curious about the Southerner. Stoick didn’t have to say it. If he didn’t know about the dragons, it was the only reason why this Dagur would have even _heard_ of Hiccup. He had hoped to move beyond that, to be seen as a Viking. But while Berk may have accepted him, he still had to prove himself to Berk’s allies. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to lose another limb to accomplish that. Based on what he’d read about the Berserkers, they’re pretty crazy. Berk had clashed with them in the past, and Hiccup had read plenty about it in the books in the Great Hall. And they still made _human_ sacrifices. Berkians occasionally sacrificed a sheep or a boar, but no humans. Hiccup still privately thought that any sacrifices at all were completely ridiculous, but he knew enough not to say it. Vikings were touchy about insults to their ‘Gods’.

“Yeah, that makes sense I guess. But I doubt I’ll be alone with him, right? I’ll have the other riders hanging around, and I don’t think I’d leave the village while they’re here.”

Stoick nodded. “Yes, and I want to be sure you’ve got people with you at all times. But this is just in case. And it will be good for the future as well. We still have time, however. The Berserkers aren’t comin’ until summer’s end.”

That was about a month away. Hiccup nodded. “Yeah, well, Astrid seems determined.”

Stoick chuckled. “Aye, that she is. Well, I’ll let ya get some shut eye, lad. You’ve have a busy day.”

“Yeah, night Chief.”

After Stoick left, Hiccup blew out his candle and went to sit on the edge of his bed before taking off his prosthetic and laying down. Things were starting to happen. The Vikings were both getting more invested in the dragons, or more resentful depending on who you look at. Soon, there would be more than just Berk involved. Hiccup’s whole world since being rescued has revolved around Berk. The only Viking that wasn’t a Berkian that he’d met was Trader Johann. But as the leader of the Academy - and that still made his skin prickle with excitement and terror - he would have the most responsibility when it came to changing the opinions of the Archipelago. But at least now, he had Berk behind him. Hiccup sighed and rolled over, taking care with his sore leg. It looked like the next month would be busy.

  
He couldn’t wait to start.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is marked Steve/Tony, but right now it is leading in a very Hiccup/Astrid way. That's on purpose. Steve/Tony is the end game, but right now Tony is young and Astrid is kind of a childhood crush. Tony is still going to met Rhodey, since he is going to be going to MIT once he goes back to the U.S. He is going to be in his late twenties at the start of Iron Man, and in his thirties for the majority of the Marvel movies. I am going to be making him a little bit younger then I think he actually is in the movies, because I imagine that riding a dragon requires quite a bit of athleticism . Also, I'm not a big fan of large age differences so I'm bringing him and Steve a little closer together. But he WILL be a full-fledged adult. Please let me know if you have any more questions/concerns!
> 
> Episodes included: Season 1, episode 1: 'How to Start a Dragon Academy', season 1, episode 2: 'Viking for Hire'.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you EchoMoonstone for betaing this!
> 
> EDIT: A commenter (sylwioszka) suggested that I add the names of the episodes that are in each chapter, which is a great idea that I should have thought of. So from now on, at the end notes I will add the name and episode number of any episodes that are written/referenced in each chapter. Thanks for the suggestion sylwioszka!

Hiccup didn’t like learning to fight in the cove. The cove was were he and Toothless became friends, and he hated holding a sword there. The cove was _safe_. So he and Toothless went out and found a small clearing on the far side of the island, which was a long walk but a short flight. It gave them privacy, but didn’t take away from the magic of the cove. Toothless still wasn’t happy about it. The Night Fury would pace and whine the entire time. The first time they went to the clearing and Astrid drew her sword, Toothless actually curled his lip and snarled at her. Then Stormfly hissed back and it came pretty close to a dragon fight before the riders got them settled down again. Hiccup knew why Toothless wasn’t happy, and it wasn’t because he thought Astrid was a threat. Hiccup always left the practice stiff and covered in bruises, since Astrid didn’t go easy on him. Toothless was forced to just sit and watch as Hiccup was thrown to the ground, as Astrid pressed the dull blade to his throat, as she threw punches and struck Hiccup with the hilt of her sword. It had only been a couple of weeks since the fight against the Red Death, since Hiccup lost his leg. Toothless was still worried about him, and didn’t like watching even practice fights. Hiccup didn’t like it much more. The fights were _humiliating._ It didn’t come naturally to him, and he had never so much as landed a blow on Astrid. He had taken his basic self-defense classes as a kid, since the only son of Howard Stark was a prime kidnapping target, but they were basically useless against Vikings. Americans aren’t usually trained in hand-to-hand combat. The Americans that _were_ taught to fight for whatever reason were taught to use ranged weapons like guns, or tools like a tazer. But Vikings were raised fighting up close and personal. So Astrid had no problem deflecting his attempts to jab soft spots. And his work with a sword was truly pathetic. But Astrid took no excuses and never let him quit.

The part Hiccup always enjoyed was the time they spent following the practice fights. They would spend some time just sitting, catching their breath and leaning against their respective dragons, and just talk. Astrid wasn’t afraid of asking him about the South, but didn’t constantly bring it up either, so he found it was much easier to talk to her about it than any of the other Vikings. He was always highly aware of what he said about the South to any of the other Vikings, including - maybe even more so - Stoick. But Astrid just wanted to know about who Hiccup was when he was still Tony Stark, and where he came from. So he told her. He told her about electricity, about the differences in flying in a plane versus flying on a dragon. He told her about Jarvis, and his parents. That subject was raw. He knew now, after months of living with Vikings and never having a hand laid on him, that his father slapping him around wasn’t normal. He had always thought that since Howard never broke bones or put him in the hospital, that it wasn’t that bad. But if _Vikings_ thought Howard’s behavior was barbaric, how could Hiccup argue with that? But the even after all the time that had passed, sometimes he would smell the lavenders that grew around Berk and remember his mother’s perfume, or look at his invention and wonder what his father would have thought, and the grief would appear out of nowhere to strangle him. Because yeah, Howard was out of line and his mother was mostly absent, but it wasn’t all bad. When he was younger, he remembered his mother singing silly little songs to him, and the grand piano she loved to play. Before she started drinking, she had been present in at least a little of his life, and it was nice. His father used to let him occasionally sit in the front seat of one of his cars while he worked on the engine, and Howard would talk about what he was doing and what each part of the engine did. That stopped when he got older, but it was a nice memory.

Astrid didn’t comment much about his parents. Hiccup was glad. He didn’t want to hear what he knew all the Vikings thought of his family. But she asked a lot about Jarvis, and Hiccup loved talking about him. He always had to be careful when speaking of Jarvis when he lived in America, because someone of his status couldn’t be known to care too much about the help. But there was no concern about that here. So he talk and talked. He told Astrid about the ballgame Jarvis had taken him to for his birthday, which lead to him having to explain what the game was. Maybe they could try playing baseball on dragons. Now _there_ was an idea. He told her about the toy shield Jarvis had hand-painted to look like Captain America’s shield. Hiccup was telling her about Jarvis’s disastrous attempt teaching him to cook pancakes when he realized.

Toothless could fly him South.

Toothless was a Night Fury, the fastest flier. It would still take at least a few days, maybe a week, but Toothless could take him there. It would be a rough journey, and they would have to be careful to avoid people, but it was easy to catch food on a dragon so they could hunt, and thanks to Toothless building fires was easy.

“Hiccup?”

He looked up and realized that he had stopped talking in the middle of a sentence. Toothless warbled in concern and nudged Hiccup’s temple with his nose. The wing that Hiccup was leaning on shifted. Hiccup reached back to scratch under the Night Fury’s wing joint to calm him.

No, he couldn’t go South now. The peace with the dragons was still too unstable, and the Berserkers would be coming soon. Even a visit - because there was no way Hiccup would give up his life on Berk for good - would take too long. He had too much to do here. Hiccup let out a shuddering breath. Yes. He had to stay. Guilt stirred, because now he was _choosing_ to leave Jarvis in the dark. But he had been ‘dead’ for almost a year. Jarvis would have healed and moved on. Maybe someday, when things were more stable, he could go and see Jarvis. Get a sample of his scent to use to train a Terror to send letters. But for now, he had to stay put. It wasn’t an excuse. It _wasn’t_. The idea of going South was daunting, and yeah, Hiccup didn’t want to leave Berk even for a little while, but he had legitimate reasons for staying put.

“Hiccup? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled back. “Yeah. What were we talking about?”

She shrugged. “I don’t remember. We need to head back anyway.”

He nodded, still quiet. They collected the practice swords and mounted their dragons. Toothless was still pretty clearly worried, glancing back at Hiccup every few seconds. The night was quiet, and the moon was close to being full. The Northern Lights were out. It was gorgeous. Once they reached the village, Hiccup waved to Astrid as they split up to go to their own houses. But rather than heading back, Hiccup flew over his house and directed Toothless up. They flew high, high enough that the light from the fires in the watchtowers couldn’t reach  them.

“He thinks I’m dead,” Hiccup murmured to Toothless. The dragon looked back and warbled softly. “Is it cruel for me to keep letting him think that? I’ve got you now. We could fly down, find him, let him know I’m alive.” They hit a rough patch of air, and Toothless pumped his wings to push them higher. “But that would mean leaving Berk for weeks. Maybe even a month. I’m not sure how far we really are from America. And that would leave Mildew plenty of opportunity to drive the Vikings and the dragons apart.” They were really high now. Hiccup had to be careful to breath deeply and evenly so he didn’t get dizzy. Toothless noticed and evened out into a glide, rather than climbing higher. He wasn’t the least bit bothered by this height. Hiccup wondered how high he could go if he didn’t have Hiccup to worry about. “No. Not yet. Besides, the freeze is coming soon. Maybe next year we can see about going South.” Toothless crooned.

“I want to try something,” Hiccup announced. “You remember our first flight?” Toothless rolled an eye back to give Hiccup a flat, suspicious look. Hiccup grinned at him, and pushed thoughts of Jarvis back. “Come on, bud! It’ll be fine! We’re high enough!” Toothless groaned, but didn’t actively protest so Hiccup knew he was just being contradictory. He grinned and unfastened his safety belt. Toothless huffed but his ear plates perked up a little and Hiccup knew he was as excited as he was.

“Ready?” Hiccup asked. Toothless grunted and Hiccup felt his muscles tense. He took a deep breath, and let himself slide sideways, out of the saddle.

And he fell.

He whooped as the air whipped past. All thoughts of Jarvis and America were pushed back, and there was only the rushing air, the bite of the wind, and the excited barks of his dragon. Toothless appeared next to him, wings folded tightly to his back and his legs tucked into his trunk. Hiccup grinned at him, and the Night Fury grinned right back, tongue flapping in the wind. Hiccup laughed, pure and joyful. How could he have ever lived without this? The rush of adrenaline as they approached the water, the wind tugging at his hair? But more, so much more, how could he have made it this far in life without Toothless? His sweet, loyal dragon who chased sparks that flew from fires and pounced on shadows?

Toothless apparently decided they were getting too close to the water, because he twisted sharply. Hiccup pulled himself back into the saddle and fastened his safety straps before opening the tailfin. Toothless’s wings snapped out and they pulled up sharply. The wind tried to drag them down, but they just flew on it. The water whipped up to spray Hiccup’s face from the force of the Night Fury’s flight. Hiccup didn’t realize they were that close to it. Maybe it was a bad idea to try this at night. But he couldn’t regret it. Besides, he trusted Toothless. He had learned that maybe he needed to practice listening to his dragon a little more after the whole mess with Torch a couple of days ago. But he learned his lesson. And he has been listening, and just as it did that night, it always paid off.

They flew back to Berk and landed lightly in front of the house. Hiccup dismounted and scratched Toothless’s chin in thanks for the flight. Toothless’s eyes rolled back slightly and his tongue lolled out. Hiccup grinned and opened the front door. There was a single candle still lit on the kitchen table for him, next to a plate that held a roasted fish and a scoop of potatoes. There was a basket of fish on the floor next to the table. Hiccup opened the basket for Toothless, and the dragon dove in. Hiccup took a bite of his potatoes and smiled at Toothless. It was nice. Hiccup, Stoick, and Toothless. It was a strange family, but a family all the same.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Stoick had banished the dragons.

Hiccup couldn’t believe his ears when Stoick announced that the Academy would have to take the dragons to a nearby island and leave them there. Hiccup knew, he just _knew_ , that Mildew was behind all the destruction and he had framed the dragons. But he had no proof. He would find it. He _would_ . Because he wasn’t leaving Toothless. Not for good. He was standing on the island, hand on Toothless’s nose, and staring into his dragon’s heartbroken eyes when he promised Toothless that he would fix this. And he would. He _would_.

“Trust me, bud,” Hiccup murmured. Toothless whimpered, eyes begging Hiccup not to leave. It felt like Hiccup’s heart was being shredded. He took a deep breath and pulled his hand back, hitching the saddle higher under his arm. He walked over to a log to hide the flight rig in, then started back towards the ship waiting for him that already held the other riders. Toothless barked anxiously, and Hiccup could hear the dragon following him. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath.

“It won’t be long, bud,” Hiccup promised. “I’m going to fix this. I _promise_.” Toothless whined, but stayed put as Hiccup climbed onto the ship. The other dragons were standing on the beach too, watching their riders sail away with confused, hurt eyes. But they stayed on the beach, obeying their riders even in this.

It was the first time Hiccup had been on a ship since _The Seeker,_ the only exception being when he had rescued Toothless during the battle with the Red Death. But he had had other things on his mind then, and the ship had been stationary. But now, he barely lasted until the island was out of sight before the terror overwhelmed him. Suddenly he was certain that this ship was going down, and he and the other teens would go down with it, and he would never get to fulfill his promise to Toothless. He managed to dash behind a stack of crates so he was out of sight of the other teens, who were still standing at the rail staring in the direction of their dragons. He crouched there and crammed his wrist into his mouth to keep from making any noise as his body tried to shake itself apart. He rocked back and forth, eyes squeezed shut. He wanted Toothless. He wanted his sweet, playful dragon. He wanted to feel the burning heat that could only belong to his Night Fury by his side. He wanted Toothless to take him off this _fucking_ ship, to take him into the clear sky where there was no horrible rocking, no cold water trying to drag him under. But Toothless wasn’t there, because Hiccup had failed. He failed at proving the dragons’ innocence, he failed at _protecting_ Toothless the way his Night Fury had always protected him.

Ships were much slower than dragons. It took almost four hours to make a return trip on what had been a thirty minute flight. Thankfully, the other teens let Hiccup be. Vikings don’t respect fear, and if they saw Hiccup falling apart over a simple boat ride, it would destroy all of the respect Hiccup had gained recently. Astrid and Fishlegs would probably be fairly understanding, but Snotlout and the twins … wouldn’t be. They probably thought he was just grieving the loss of Toothless, and left him alone.                  

As soon as he felt the ship bump up against the dock and heard the greetings of the Vikings working there, he bolted. He ran off the ship and straight to the forge, ignoring the calls of the teens. He blew past a startled Gobber and darted into his workroom, slamming the door behind him. He leaned against it and sunk to the ground. His leg throbbed faintly. It was almost completely healed at this point. Just another thing he had to thank Toothless for. He sometimes got the severe stabbing pain in his missing foot that he knew was phantom pain, but Gobber had showed him a way to massage the stump that helped ease the pain, and had showed him how to breathe and relax enough to let the pain fade away. But the pain was far less common at this point then it had been during the first couple weeks after losing the leg. And now it was just sore from his crouch on the ship. Good. It should hurt. Hiccup deserved it.

A knock at the door. “Laddie!” Gobber called.

“Go away!” Hiccup shouted back, sounding just like a sulky child. He had just been forced to leave his best friend alone on an island, he figured he was allowed a little time to himself.

A loud sigh answered him, and he heard the soft _click-thump_ of Gobber hobbling away. The door to the shop opened and closed, and the forge was quiet.

Now that he was alone, he let out a ragged sob and let the tears fall. He banged his head back against the door once, the again, harder.

“I’m sorry, Toothless,” he whispered. He sniffed and rubbed his nose, then let out another ragged sob.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat on the floor crying, but after some time he heard the door to the forge open again. He sniffed and shuddered, forcing himself quiet.

Heavy footsteps approached the door. Too even to be Gobber, whose limping gait was a dead giveaway.

The footsteps stopped, then a heavy hand pounded twice on the door.

Hiccup didn’t move.

“Hiccup.” Stoick’s voice was abnormally soft. Fucking Gobber, that tattletail. Hiccup still didn’t move.

A deep sigh. “Lad, either open the door or I’m breakin’ it.” Stoick’s voice was low but firm. He was serious. Hiccup sniffed and quickly rubbed his hands over his face to clear the tears, although there was nothing he could do about the redness he knew his eyes held.

He stood up and opened the door, but didn’t meet Stoick’s eyes.

A large hand gripped his chin and gently lifted his face. Hiccup stared at a scratch on the wall over Stoick’s shoulder. Stoick sighed.

“I miss him too, Hiccup.” Suddenly the Chief’s huge arms wrapped around Hiccup, pulling him into a tight embrace. Hiccup gasped a little in shock. It was the first time Stoick had ever given him a real, full-on hug. He hesitantly raised his arms around the Chief.

“You made me send him away.”

Stoick’s grip tightened a little. “It’s only for the moment. I can’t convict a man of high treason without solid proof, Hiccup. Find me that proof, and we’ll get yer dragons back and kick that old man off this island.”

Now Stoick grasped Hiccup’s shoulder, gently pushed him back. “Find me the proof, Hiccup. We’ll get Toothless back. I promise.”

Hiccup took a shuddering breath, and nodded.

  
Toothless always protected Hiccup. Now it was Hiccup’s turn to protect Toothless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes included: Season 1, episode 4: 'The Terrible Twos', season 1, episode 5: 'In Dragons We Trust'.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you EchoMoonstone for betaing this!

There were times where Hiccup felt like his mind was trying to rip itself to pieces. When he was still Tony Stark, he solved this by creating. He pushed his mind to its limit to force it to give, to bend, to just _stop_ and let him rest. But on Berk, there was really nothing to test his mind on. So there were times that it was all he could do to keep himself together. He tried to sooth his brain’s itching with math. He spent hours upon hours creating equations, then solving them. The Vikings just rolled their eyes and left him to it. They didn’t understand it. They didn’t use much math. Hiccup wasn’t sure if they really even knew what it was, beyond just the basic few numbers that they used while counting fish, adding sheep, and counting heads of how many people survived the most recent raid. Hiccup didn’t really care if they understood or not. He _needed_ the math. There were days that it was all that kept him sane. But there was one equation that he couldn’t solve. P versus NP. It was mathematically impossible to solve, and Hiccup _hated_ it but at the same time he _loved_ it. He spent hours, sometimes days on it, and wasted countless pieces of paper writing out failed attempts at finding a solution. Every time, he would end up giving up and setting his paper aside, but he always left the equation feeling steadier than when he first lifted his pencil-stick.    

He felt like his relationship with the other Vikings was a little like that. There were times where he hated them, hated how superstitious they were, how set in their ways they were, how _stubborn_ they were. He couldn’t solve the equation that was the Vikings. Not completely. He could wrap his head around the concept of them, but when it came time to put that knowledge to the test and solve the equation, it never equaled out. They always did something that surprised him. But despite the frustration they caused him, they kept him steady. Stoick’s hand on his shoulder comforting, Gobber’s obnoxious voice amusing, Astrid’s scent intoxicating, even Snotlout helped keep his world right side up.

So there was no question on who to go to for help with clearing the dragons’ name, and that was how Hiccup ended up combing the beach with the other teens, looking for the dragon-foot-boots that Mildew had used to frame the dragons. It wasn’t very creative, but then again, Mildew was a Viking. And Hiccup had _seen_ him throw the damn boots in the ocean, so this was their only shot at finding the evidence they needed. But there was nothing. Nothing but the strange ship they spotted. It had a crest Hiccup didn’t recognize, but Astrid did. So the riders ended up racing back to the village to warn Stoick about the incoming Outcasts.

Hiccup was freaking out, although he was trying his best not to show it. An invasion, while the dragons were gone and Berk had no weapons since ‘the dragons’ had blown up the armory. He couldn’t think of a worse way to meet Vikings from outside of Berk. There was nothing he could do but try to help. Which, without the dragons, mostly meant staying out of the way. But he had never been very good at that, so as soon as he heard that Alvin the Treacherous was there for the ‘Dragon Conqueror’ he ran for the Outcasts’ leader’s position on the beach, where he was holding the kids and the old hostage.

He had expected a little more fanfare, in all honesty. He had gotten to the beach and found Mildew unconscious, which was a small blessing, and Astrid face-to-face with a Viking nearly as huge as Stoick. Only this man had small, dark eyes filled with greed and something Hiccup could only describe as _evil_. When Alvin yanked Astrid’s braid back, which was dishonorable and made Hiccup’s blood _boil_ , he knew he had to speak up.

But when he showed himself and announced that he he was the Dragon Conqueror, all the Outcasts just burst into laughter at once. “You?” Alvin asked, barely able to get the words out through his laughing. “Stoick’s ‘ittle pet? The ‘ittle Southerner who fancies ‘imself a Vikin’? _Yer_ the Dragon Conqueror?”

Hiccup met Astrid’s eyes, and they exchanged a small nod of acknowledgment.

“It’s true!” Astrid cried, her eyes wide and slightly awed. She really was a good liar, for a Viking. “He conquered _all_ the dragons! Even a _Night Fury!”_

The name of the most feared dragon in the world caused all of the laughter to cut off at once. Suddenly, Hiccup found himself being closely studied by the Outcasts, all of them trying to figure out if it was true. Hiccup knew he could trick them. He comes from Southerners, and he could still lie like one. So he met Alvin’s eyes without fear, without doubt.

“Yer bluffing,” Alvin growled, dark eyes narrowed.

“Am I?” Hiccup demanded. He knew _exactly_ how to defeat the Outcasts, and bring the dragons back into Berk’s good graces. “One way to find out. Take me to Dragon Island.”

Alvin laughed. It was a harsh, ugly sound. “Oh, I will, boy. I will.”

So for the second time in two days, Hiccup found himself on a boat. But this time he was closely watched, with Outcasts holding swords on him the whole time. Apparently the idea that he was capable of defeating a Night Fury made the Outcasts disregard his size and consider him an active threat. If he wasn’t on another damned boat, he probably would have laughed. Sweat slicked his skin, and his muscles were beginning to cramp with how tight he was holding them in an effort not to tremble. He kept his mind focused on Toothless. _Just a little longer,_ he told himself. _Just a little longer, and you’ll be with Toothless._ It was all that held him together. He did his best to answer Alvin’s boasting with casual disregard, trying not to show his fear. The Outcasts would probably think he was afraid of the dragons they were sailing towards, which would not help his goal of getting to Toothless.

He wanted to cry with relief when the ship bumped against the sand of the island. Instead he moved as fast as they would let him to get off of the ship. Toothless wasn’t in sight, so he must have hidden himself and the other dragons at the sight of the unfamiliar ship. His smart, smart Toothless. Hiccup wanted to race through the island and find his dragon, but the spears crossed in front of his chest ensured that wouldn’t be happening. But Toothless must have heard his voice when he complained at the Vikings, because a familiar cry rang through the air. When Hiccup looked up, he found Toothless had leapt out of the trees and was on the beach. Happiness swelled in his chest, and he could barely keep his glee hidden from the Outcasts. Toothless froze at the sight of the unfamiliar Vikings and the swords they held on Hiccup. All at once, Toothless’s pupils thinned, he lowered to a crouch, and he curled his lips back from his teeth. Suddenly he went from being Hiccup’s playful friend to a truly menacing beast. But it was impossible for Hiccup to be afraid of Toothless. It was all he could do to keep from grinning.

He managed to get the Outcasts to stay where they were and let him approach the Night Fury alone. It wasn’t hard. They were clearly alarmed by the dragon and didn’t want to get close. The only one who didn’t look like he was about to wet his pants was Alvin. Toothless waited as Hiccup approached, eyes flickering between him and the Outcasts. Once the dragon decided that Hiccup was close enough that Toothless could reach him before the Outcasts did, the dragon pounced. Hiccup whisper-laughed and wrapped his arms around Toothless’s wide head, ignoring the frightened cries of the Outcasts. He whispered reassurances to Toothless and pushed himself upright again, edging towards the hidden saddle. The Outcasts didn’t get suspicious until he was finished hooking up Toothless’s flight rig. Seeing Alvin’s shocked face when Toothless lowered his wing to reveal Hiccup in the saddle was _immensely_ satisfying, and now Hiccup let his grin split his face.

It was so _good_ to fly again. It washed the nauseating rocking sensation of the boat away. In its place was the cleansing blast of icy wind against his skin and the rush caused by speed and power. The other riders arrived in a timely matter, and Hiccup got to see Stoick punch Alvin right in the face. Watching the two enormous Vikings fight was incredible. It was like watching two massive waves clash, shaking the ground with the force of their blows.

But the best part was taking Toothless home. The dragon purred so hard he vibrated Hiccup through the saddle with his happiness. Vikings cheered when the riders flew overhead, and Mildew snarled. Hiccup may not have found the evidence of what he did, but he would keep a closer eye on the old Viking from now on. He would make _certain_ Mildew didn’t get another chance to frame the dragons. Because all of the dragons, not just Toothless, were _his_. And he protected his own.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Toothless was relieved to be back in the Viking nest. But it was coming clear that it wasn’t just a nest for Vikings anymore. It was becoming a nest for dragons as well. Humans and dragons sharing a nest was unprecedented, as far Toothless knew. But it was nice. Humans’ dull soft-claws were perfect for scratching all the right places, and they were surprisingly good hunters considering their weak bodies. But the best thing was being back with Hiccup. The time away from his little Viking was lonely, despite the presence of the other dragons. Toothless couldn’t sleep, too worried about Hiccup. And he had to keep the other dragons from turning on each other, and make them wait until the Vikings came back for them. Because Toothless knew they would come back. Hiccup said he would fix it, so Toothless knew he would.

Then he had seen a strange Viking ship in the distance, and had gotten the other dragons away from the shore. But Toothless heard his Viking’s familiar heartbeat, then his voice. The strange, dark Vikings had held weapons on Toothless’s precious little Viking, and a mix of rage and fear had tightened Toothless’s scales. But his clever Hiccup got away from them without them even knowing that they were being hunted. Hiccup had smelled of old fear, and relief. Like he had been afraid but wasn’t anymore. Toothless didn’t like Hiccup smelling like fear. He would have to work harder to make sure Hiccup wouldn’t be forced to be away from him anymore. But for now, all was right in his world.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The night after Hiccup got the dragons back, he had his first nightmare since killing the Red Death and bringing peace to Berk. He wasn’t even sure what the dream was. All he knew was he was cold, in pain, and he felt like he was missing something - or someone - vitally important. He knew he was on the water, and whatever he was on - the raft? - was rocking in that nauseating way that he _hated_. And it was _so cold._ He jerked out of the dream, gasping wildly. His face and hair was soaked, there was something heavy on his chest, and for one hysterical moment he thought he was on _The Seeker_ and it was still sinking. But then something slimy that smelled distinctly of fish ran up the side of his face and he became aware of the anxious whines coming from above him. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. Toothless’s worried face came into focus, and Hiccup realized that the wetness on his face and in his hair was from the dragon’s attempt to wake him up. The weight on his chest was Toothless’s paw, from where the Night Fury was carefully leaning on him. He sucked in a desperate breath and reached up to Toothless.

“Hey bud. Yeah, hey. I’m, I’m okay. Yeah. I’m okay, you’re okay, we’re both fine. You and me, huh bud?”            

Toothless crooned, nuzzling his nose into Hiccup’s neck and breathing in his scent. The dragon was shaking nearly as hard as Hiccup, and Hiccup instantly felt horrible.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay bud. Just a bad dream. It’s okay.” Hiccup wondered if dragons can have nightmares. If they dream. They must. Animals do, and dragons are much more intelligent than most animals.    

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his own shaking so Toothless could calm down. After another minute, Toothless drew back a bit so he could look at Hiccup. But he didn’t go back to his bed. In fact, Hiccup didn’t like the way his Night Fury was eyeing Hiccup’s own bed.

“Yeah, no chance bud. Vikings make pretty sturdy furniture but I don’t think this bed can hold a thousand pounds of dragon. Let’s sleep on your bed, okay buddy?”

Toothless’s ear plates perked right up and he bounced in place, barking in excitement.

Hiccup laughed, the last dregs of the nightmare fading away. “Shh! Don’t wake up Stoick!” He pushed out of bed and hopped over to Toothless’s bed, not bothering to put his prosthetic on. He carefully sat on the edge of the rock, and Toothless circled around behind him to get comfortable. Once the dragon was lying down, Hiccup scooted in close, trying to figure out how he should lie. The problem was solved when Toothless stretched out his wing and tucked it around Hiccup, using it to pull him in close. Hiccup smiled and snuggled in against his dragon, burying his face in Toothless’s shoulder. The Night Fury sighed contently and buried his nose in Hiccup’s hair.

They had no more nightmares that night.     

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A week after the failed invasion of the Outcasts, Mildew was grinning as he walked towards Trader Johann’s ship. The Outcasts were fools, and they had failed spectacularly. But Mildew knew, oh he knew _exactly_ how to get rid of the Southerner and all his pesky dragons. In his day, such a thing would never have been tolerated. First, Stoick allowed a _Southerner_ on Berk. A _Southerner!_ Of all things! Then, that Southerner brought _dragons!_ But Mildew would fix it, oh yes, he would.

“Good day, Mildew!” Trader Johann’s voice was, as always, annoyingly cheerful. But despite that personality flaw, the man was a decent Viking. Unlike the Vikings Berk produced nowadays. Trader Johann knew how to do business, and never asked questions.

“‘Ello, Trader Johann.” Mildew’s voice was even more gravely than usual in his attempt to keep his voice down.

“What can I get you today? I have more of that, ah, _cream,_ you wanted last time!”

Mildew scowled at him. “Behhhh, no, I don’t need none of that. I’ve got a request from the Chief, actually.”

Johann blinked at him. “The Chief? Oh, well the Chief was just here this morning! He didn’t say anything about a special request.”  

Mildew frowned harder at the Trader. “He needs the letters the Southerner gave you. Do you still have ‘em?”

Johann blinked, apparently caught by surprise. “Oh, of course! I’m the finest trader in the Archipelago Mildew, I would hardly lose such important merchandise. Why, I can’t count the number of times I would be caught in a storm, my crates sliding around, and I would bravely dive after -”

“Yes yes Trader Johann. I understand. The letters, if you would?” Staying civil was difficult. But Mildew needed Johann in his good graces for this to work. Still, he didn’t think he could stand listening to one of Johann’s stories.

“Oh, of course!” Johann quickly ducked into the belly of his ship.

Mildew could hear him rustling around. Fungus bleated, and Mildew reached down to pat the sheep’s head. “Oh, have some patience, dear Fungus. Soon, all will be well.”

Mildew had to give the Trader credit. He was clearly organized. It only took a minute for him to locate the letters, and hand them over to Mildew.

Mildew just had to be sure of one thing. “Oh, and don’t say anything if you see the Chief later. He wants this to be discreet, understand?”

Trader Johann looked nearly insulted. “Why, of course! I always respect my buyers’ anonymity! Don’t you worry Mildew, my lips are sealed!”

After bidding the Trader goodbye, Mildew let himself walk away. It was all he could do to keep from dancing. He had the letters. It would take time to play out, since the freeze was nearly upon them and they couldn’t begin until the weather was clear enough to sail, and it would probably take quite a bit of time once they were able to begin. But once it came together it would be _beautiful_. Once he got rid of that Southerner, there would be no one in the way of his plans to be rid of the dragons, and Berk would shine again.

Next time he saw Alvin, he would give him his present and let him in on Mildew’s plan.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you guys think Mildew is plotting? Leave a comment letting me know! I love watching people speculate! 
> 
> Episodes included: Season 1, episode 6: Alvin and the Outcasts


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'M SORRY. I know it has been forever - well, forever compared to how long I usually take between updates - but I've been super busy. And I promise, that's not an excuse. I know every author says they're super busy and it's only temporary, then they take six months to update again. I promise, I'm not doing that! I just started a new job, plus I have finals approaching, and I'm part of my college's band and I've had stuff going on with that. Updates will probably be slow until my semester ends in a few weeks. But I promise, I haven't lost interest, and I'm not stuck with writer's block or anything. I've just had no time. Also, we're almost at 600 kudos! So thanks a bunch! And as always, thanks EchoMoonstone for betaing this!

It was six months after the first attack of the Outcasts, and winter was in full swing. Vikings were preparing for Snoggletog, dragons were bathing themselves in the warmth of the fires, and everyone was in a good mood. During the one Snoggletog Hiccup had experienced, he had felt awkward and just kept to himself. Stoick and Gobber tried to get him to join the festivities, but he didn’t budge. After all, it wasn’t his holiday. But this year, Hiccup fully intended to enjoy himself. After all, now he had friends for the first time in his life, he was part of the tribe, and he actually felt like he had a right to celebrate with the Vikings this year. And this time, he wouldn’t be awkwardly following Stoick and Gobber around. He had the other teens, and he had Toothless. The Night Fury in question was currently curled around Hiccup, and they were both sitting on the floor of their house. Hiccup was leaning against Toothless’s wing, with the dragon’s tail laid heavily over his lap, and was drawing the mechanics for his shield. He still hadn’t made it. He kept getting overexcited and making it too complicated before remembering his limited resources. Sometimes he hated it, how limited he was. Living with Vikings was a double-edged sword. He got unquestionable loyalty - well, from most of them - he got friendship, family, honesty, even true  _respect_. But he also couldn’t invent the way he so desperately wanted to. He had so many ideas in his head for robotics, but he couldn’t act on any of them. He didn’t even let himself draw them out. It didn’t do any good to tease himself.

He sighed and set his journal aside. Toothless blinked sleepily at the movement and crooned softly. Hiccup stroked the tail draped across his lap to reassure the Night Fury. Toothless heaved a gusty sigh and laid his head on the ground, large eyes sliding closed. The dragon was tired, but seemed content. Hiccup could relate. Snoggletog was a busy time of year, and a lot of the heavy lifting fell to the Academy and their dragons. They had spent the day hauling lumber and boulders into ideal places and moving large decorations to higher locations where they could be seen better. But everything they did got the riders and the dragons a lot of appreciation from the Vikings, so Hiccup didn’t mind, and Toothless didn’t seem to either. Hiccup ran his fingers idly over the small, flexible ridges on Toothless’s tail. There was one missing on the left side. Another casualty to the bola launcher. Hiccup’s fingers danced lightly down the tail, tracing over the place where Toothless’s left fin should be. It was unnaturally smooth, with no scales. He swallowed, the never-dwindling guilt stirring up. There weren’t any scales on Toothless’s tailfins. Not on the ones at the base of his tail, or on the single remaining fin at the tip of his tail. Toothless’s scales were flexible, but not enough to allow the fins to open and close as they needed to. Instead, the skin was thick and tough, like leather, with strong tendons and thick veins. But they were far more vulnerable than anywhere else on the Night Fury’s body. Hiccup rubbed the single tailfin between his fingers. In his sleep, Toothless flexed the fin and began to purr.

Hiccup sighed and took his fingers away from the fin, trying to push the guilt back. Toothless didn’t seem bothered by the missing fin, so Hiccup shouldn’t torment himself over it. That did nothing to ease the guilt, so he tried to take his mind away from it. He shifted slightly away from the dragon, intending to get up, but Toothless grumbled in his sleep and his tail tensed, tightening against Hiccup. He sighed softly and rolled his eyes in fond amusement before settling back against Toothless. He picked up his journal again, and idly started to draw the Academy. Not long after that, the door slammed open. Toothless’s head popped up, large eyes blinked blearily at the door and already grumbling a complaint at the rude awakening. Stoick lumbered inside, snow blasting around him. Hiccup could see Thornado moving around the house to his lean-to, unbothered by the blasting wind. The Thunderdrum was the only dragon Stoick was willing to bond with. There had been a couple of days after Hiccup convinced the Chief to ride a dragon where Stoick refused to ride anyone but Toothless, insisting no other dragon was powerful enough for a Chief. It got to the point where Toothless was actually hiding from Stoick. Thank God the Chief found Thornado.

“Evenin’ Hiccup!” Stoick greeted cheerfully. He was as jolly as the rest of the Vikings with the approaching holiday.

“Hey Chief,” Hiccup answered with a lopsided smile, patting Toothless when the dragon grumbled with annoyance from not getting greeted himself. Stoick chuckled and crossed the room to pat Toothless in apology. Now that Toothless was awake, Hiccup wiggled out from under his tail and got to his feet - well, foot. His prosthetic was leaning against the edge of the fireplace to dry the leather padding, since it had gotten wet from snow melting on it. Hiccup hopped over to it, and put it on without having to sit. Stoick let him, and didn’t jump to try to help. Hiccup liked that. The Vikings didn’t coddle or pity him because of the injury. They were far too used to injuries like Hiccup’s. And Vikings weren’t prone to pity in any case. Toothless stood up and stretched out like a cat, his split tongue curling in a wide yawn. He made a happy smacking sound, and padded after Hiccup as Hiccup walked into the kitchen. He got a basket of fish from the cellar for Toothless, a cup of ale for Stoick, and a piece of dried boar jerky for himself.  

Stoick grunted in thanks when Hiccup handed him the mug. Hiccup was glad he was in a good mood. Last year, as the holidays approached Stoick had become quiet and forlorn. Gobber told Hiccup that the Chief was missing his wife, and to leave him be. Feeling awkward, Hiccup had done just that. But this year, Hiccup was determined not to let Stoick sink into the depression that he had last year. So far, so good.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hiccup was out flying with Toothless, just days before Snoggletog, when the huge flock of dragons had appeared, knocking Hiccup’s beloved helmet into the ocean. It was all he could do to keep Toothless from going after it. His dragon was loyal and thoughtful almost to a fault, and Toothless knew how important that helmet was to Hiccup. But Hiccup knew that this many dragons moving at once meant something was happening, so the helmet would have to wait. He and Toothless raced back to Berk as quickly as Toothless’s wings could carry them.

Sure enough, when he got back he found the Vikings frantic. The huge flock of dragons was already flying away, and Berk’s dragons were going to join them. Hiccup could see several familiar dragons leaving to join the huge flock. Toothless landed lightly, and immediately the Vikings swarmed Hiccup as he dismounted, shoving in close and shouting over each other. Hiccup tried to step back, tried to separate individual voices from each other, but it was impossible. The one who finally managed to quiet the crowd was - unsurprisingly - Stoick.

“ _Enough!”_

Silence immediately fell as Stoick shoved through the crowd, glaring and pushing people away from Hiccup. Hiccup was grateful. He trusted his tribe absolutely, but he still got nervous when people forced themselves into his space. Something Stoick was aware of. He often found Stoick’s protectiveness suffocating, since the Chief was much more intrusive about it than Toothless. But now, Hiccup was grateful as he pulled in a deep breath, trying to make his head stop spinning so he could _think_.  

Stoick waited until Hiccup’s breathing had evened out, then spoke in a low, anxious voice. “Hiccup. Where have all of our dragons gone?”

Hiccup swallowed. Stoick sounded miserable, his normal booming voice turned soft and pleading.

And there was only one answer to his question. The answer Hiccup hated more than any other.

“I don’t know,” he whispered.  

As one, all the Vikings’ shoulders fell, and the plaza was silent.

A familiar bark caught everyones’ attention, and all the Vikings turned to look at Toothless. The Night Fury was stretched up onto his hind legs at the edge of a cliff, facing the dragons that were flying away. Stormfly was hesitating there, chirruping back at him. But even knowing her friend was unable to follow, Stormfly did not stay. Toothless reluctantly lowered himself back to all fours as Stormfly turned to follow the other dragons. Toothless whined unhappily, pacing the edge of the cliff. Hiccup frowned, walking over to his dragon.

“Toothless? What’s going on bud?” He reached out, but for once Toothless did not turn to Hiccup. He just continued to pace, his claws clicking softly on the stone. Stung, Hiccup pulled his hand back. “Toothless?”

Nothing. Hiccup swallowed. He didn’t know what was happening, and it made him feel like a failure. The dragons were _his_. He understood them in a way he’d never been able to understand humans, and not knowing what was happening with them upset him far more than he had thought it would. They had _left_. And it was clear that if Toothless was able to, he would have left as well. He didn’t know why they had gone, or when - if - they would return. Hiccup turned to walk to the forge. Maybe Toothless just needed some time alone. He hadn’t wanted to be separated from Hiccup since - well, since they’d become friends. But maybe he just needed a little time.

He spent the rest of the day working in the forge, hammering until his muscles burned and sweated ran down his back. As he worked, he thought. It was clear that whatever had drawn the dragons away was no threat. There was no fear in the dragons. In fact, they almost seemed excited. There was none of the fear the dragons had shown at the end of a raid, when they were forced to return to the Red Death. Toothless wasn’t acting as if he _had_ to follow them. Instead he seemed like he _really really_ wanted to. But why? The dragons had seemed happy and content on Berk. Many Vikings had taken in dragons, although most did not ride them. Some sat on their dragon’s back to reach high places, but Stoick and the Academy were the only ones who rode well enough to handle fast flights, and to fly into battle on dragon-back. But the dragons were _happy_ . There was no way Hiccup had misread the dragons badly enough to mistaken that. He hit the edge of the small sword too hard, and a piece chipped off. Hiccup shouted in frustrated and threw the stupid piece of metal across the room. It was followed by a series of crashing sounds, but Hiccup didn’t investigate to see what he had damaged. Besides, it wasn’t a sword for anyone else. He was trying to design a sword for himself, something that fit him better. His work with a sword still didn’t compare to Astrid, but he was getting to the point where he would like to have a blade of his own. But the stupid sword didn’t _matter._ What mattered was the dragons. What mattered was _Toothless._  It was getting dark, and his dragon hadn’t tried to seek him out for their nightly ride. Hiccup sighed and took off his apron before leaving to find the other teens.

The others were sulking about their dragons. The only one who wasn’t bummed was Fishlegs. He was cheerfully whistling, and only pretended to get upset when the others demanded to know why he wasn’t upset with the loss of Meatlug. Hiccup knew he was lying of course. No Viking was a skilled enough liar to fool Hiccup, who’d grown up among politicians and business men. But he couldn’t be bothered to figure out what was going on with Fishlegs. If he asked for help then Hiccup would of course, but otherwise he was too preoccupied with the dragons. Astrid made an attempt at cheering everyone up, even though she was clearly missing Stormfly.

But when Hiccup tried to support her attempt at distracting everyone from their missing dragons, Tuffnut’s words nearly knocked the breath out of him. “Easy for you to say. Your dragon can’t go anywhere without _you_.”

Hiccup rocked back on his heels from the blow of Tuff’s - all too true - words. Ruffnut sneered at him as the twins walked past.

“Must be _nice_ ,” she almost spat the words.

Helpless, because there was nothing he could say to that, he looked up to where he knew Toothless was. The dragon hadn’t approached him at all since their flight that morning, and didn’t even seem to notice Hiccup’s attempts to get his attention. But Hiccup always knew where Toothless was. The dragon was on one of Berk’s many cliffs, fidgeting restlessly and staring out over the ocean in the direction the dragons had gone. Hiccup tore his eyes away. The guilt from what he had done to Toothless never left him, but now it reared up stronger than ever.

Because Toothless wanted to leave. There was no doubt in that.

What right did Hiccup have to stop him?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Toothless hated this time of year. It was when all the other dragons left to go lay their eggs, and Toothless was left alone to hunt for the Queen. The dragons refused to lay their eggs in the danger of the Queen’s nest, so they laid them on a small island south of the nest. The Queen had been annoyed by this, but She knew She needed future hunters so She allowed it. Besides, She hadn’t been able to control Her flock, not completely. Toothless had heard stories of powerful Alphas, born to lead a flock, that could take over a dragon’s mind and force them to do their bidding. Thankfully, the Queen wasn’t that powerful. All She could do was force Her flock to return to the nest. They had to bring food if they wanted to survive once there, but She was never able to control what they did.

So they refused to lay their eggs in the nest. The dragons would all leave, except Toothless. Because he had never seen another Dark Scaled after the deaths of his predecessors, so he had no mate to go to the island with. So he had to hunt like mad to feed the Queen. But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how little he himself ate or how little he slept, he was still only one dragon and could not feed the Queen alone. He was too valuable to kill, but the anger of the Queen was a horrible, terrifying thing that weighed on his mind and made him tremble before Her with none of the pride that he, as a Dark Scaled, should have stood with.

Therefore, Toothless usually hated this time of year. But for the first time, he wasn’t forced to feed the Queen while all the other dragons left to go lay their eggs. He didn’t mind the other dragons leaving, because he had Hiccup. For the first time since those blurry memories of when his predecessors were still alive, Toothless wasn’t alone. But Hiccup wasn’t happy. He smelled of worry and a deep unhappiness. Toothless knew it was because of the loss of his helmet. Toothless knew the helmet was a sign that Hiccup belonged to the Viking flock, and that Hiccup was always worried about not belonging. Hiccup had spent his life as alone as Toothless, and the dragon knew Hiccup was grateful as Toothless was to belong to a flock. A _real_ , healthy flock, not like the broken one ruled by the Queen. Toothless didn’t fully understand _why_ the helmet was necessary for Hiccup to feel he was part of the flock. Dragons didn’t do that. A dragon was either accepted as part of the flock, or they weren’t. They didn’t need _things_ to prove that they belonged. But Vikings apparently did, and Hiccup was unhappy. Toothless had been wanting to go after the helmet all day. He remembered exactly where it had fallen but he was afraid that he would lose the place in the ocean if too much time passed. Toothless _hated_ that he couldn’t just go get it. He had a broken body, and he couldn’t help his little Viking. Even if Hiccup helped Toothless fly to spot the helmet had fallen to, Toothless wasn’t sure if the boy could handle the depths they would have to dive to to reach it.

Toothless had been hoping to get one of the other dragons, one of the dragons that had a rider and had become Toothless’s friend, to help him reach it, but they were all gone. Toothless was the only dragon left in the Viking nest. The whole nest was unhappy, and Toothless wasn’t sure why. If he really cared, he could probably figure it out by listening to them. But he couldn’t be concerned about the other Vikings when Hiccup was so unhappy.

Toothless spent the night at the cliffs, scenting the wind and hoping to see more dragons in the distance. His sense of smell was one of Toothless’s weakest senses. It was still stronger than most other creatures of course, but Toothless couldn’t track the way some dragons could. There were dragons that could track a faint trace of a scent across the world. Toothless couldn’t even smell the helmet anymore, not while surrounded by other Viking scents and with the helmet below the water’s surface. Toothless’s strongest senses were his eyesight and his hearing. But they would not help him now.

No dragons appeared during the night, and Toothless finally returned to Hiccup’s small nest that he shared with his sire and with Toothless. He knew no dragons would be flying by now, and the only chance to get the helmet and cheer Hiccup up was to let the boy help him fly to where the helmet had fallen. Toothless would just have to try to reach it, and if Hiccup couldn’t handle the depths, he would have to wait until the other dragons returned to the nest.  

But Hiccup wasn’t in the nest. Toothless jumped and paced restlessly over the roof of the little nest, but when he heard Hiccup call his name, his little Viking was walking over from another direction. Pleased at the boy’s arrival, Toothless leapt to the ground. Hiccup was happy, excited about something. Toothless assumed it was eagerness for their flight, but when he bounded over to Hiccup, he found the boy was holding a new false-fin for him.

Toothless was a bit apprehensive. He _liked_ his fin. Sure, he couldn’t fly as fast as he once could, or else it would probably fall apart, but Hiccup’s frail human body wouldn’t be able to handle Toothless’s true speeds anyway. But Toothless didn’t mind. He loved flying with Hiccup. Losing some speed and altitude capabilities was _more_ than worth it. And this new false-fin was strange. It didn’t have all the pieces that Toothless’s usual fin had. It seemed like it was just the false-fin, without any of the pieces for Hiccup.

When Hiccup secured it into place, Toothless felt something clamp down onto his natural tailfin. It didn’t hurt, but having _something_ , something that wasn’t Hiccup, gripping the delicate limb made Toothless panic. But Hiccup was frantically trying to calm him, and when Toothless swung with tail in front of his face and instinctively flared out his natural fin, he froze.

Because the false-fin flared out as well.

Hiccup was still talking, but for once Toothless wasn’t listening. He brought the end of his tail closer to his face and flexed his fin. The false-fin flexed as well.

Toothless slowly turned to stare at Hiccup, eyes wide and shocked. Hiccup grinned, looking extremely pleased with himself. As he should be. Toothless couldn’t even comprehend _how_ Hiccup gave him his flight back. His _independent_ flight.

Hiccup’s smile fell slightly. “Toothless…” his voice was hesitant now. He reached out.

Toothless jerked back, instinctively bringing his front paw up to his chest. Then he leapt into the sky. And flew away, crying out with delight at the _wholeness_ he never thought he would have again.       

And left Hiccup behind.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hiccup worked all night on the new tailfin for Toothless. When he had first created Toothless’s flight rig, he had made something he could control the movement of, because he didn’t understand the tailfins enough to make something that could work automatically. But now he did, and really it was very simple. The prosthetic just had to do what the real fin did. So he made the tailfin, but rather than hooking it to a control rod, he just connected it to a small piece of stiff leather that gripped Toothless’s right fin. So when Toothless moved his real tailfin, the prosthetic mirrored it.

He was still unsure about setting Toothless free, and that shamed him more than he could say. Because Toothless was his _best friend_. His first friend. And he had no right, none at all, to keep Toothless somewhere he didn’t want to be. So he forced himself not to dwell on it, and went to put the new fin on Toothless.

He was stupidly relieved to see Toothless on the roof, demanding a flight as he did every morning. At least Toothless seemed to be back to himself. But when Hiccup put the new fin on his dragon, Toothless damn near destroyed it in his panic. But he didn’t. And when Toothless figured the fin out and turned back to Hiccup, Hiccup didn’t even recognize his friend in those suddenly icy green eyes. Because the dragon staring at him looked _wild_. The sharp, fast recoil when Hiccup reached for him was pure, feral animal.    

And then Toothless …

He _left._

Hiccup knew that was possible. Probable, even. Toothless hadn’t been able to fly alone since Hiccup shot him down over six months ago. Of course he would want to try out the new fin on his own.

But Hiccup wasn’t prepared for just how much it _hurt._  It was like no pain he’d ever felt before. An icy sting of rejection and what he knew was unreasonable betrayal.

But he had to believe Toothless would come back. Because he knew his dragon. Toothless loved him. Hiccup _knew_ that, he knew it just like he knew that grass was green, pineapple didn’t belong on pizza, and the Pragmatism Paradigm could be applied to any problem.

He tried to follow this line of thinking, but it was hard. The rest of Berk was in the same boat. Everyone missed their dragons, but preparations for Snoggletog continued. The one good thing was Stoick didn’t fall into the funk that he had the previous year. Not due to any effort on Hiccup’s part. Instead, Stoick seemed focused on staying happy and upbeat to try to improve the atmosphere around Berk. Especially Hiccup. Stoick kept telling Hiccup to keep his chin up, that Toothless would come back. The words shouldn’t have meant as much as they did. There was no poetry to it, and Hiccup was the expert on dragons, not the Chief. But Stoick had never lied or mislead Hiccup, so it was hard to brush the Chief’s words off as meaningless.

So he tried to do as the Chief said, and threw all his effort into preparations for the rapidly approaching holiday.

And if he kept his eyes on the sky, well, no one else needed to know.

** * * * * * * * * * * * *

Toothless searched and searched for the helmet. The breathing of the ocean had displaced it, and Toothless was struggling to locate it. He hunted in between deep dives. At first, he had flown around on his own, but he found that flying alone was … lackluster. It didn’t hold the excitement and beauty that flying with Hiccup did. It was like seeing color, then having to go back to seeing the world in black and white. He saw a seal bathing in the sun, that startled at the sight of the Dark Scaled so badly that it fell back into the water. Toothless had laughed and automatically turned his eye back to see Hiccup’s reaction, only to remember that his boy wasn’t there. He had seen a tree filled with the red sweet-plants that Hiccup loved, and had started to dive down towards them before remembering that Hiccup wasn’t there to enjoy them. One night, when the sun was setting, the lingering light had glittered gorgeously off the side of an iceberg. Toothless had turned to draw Hiccup’s attention to it _but he wasn’t there_. Toothless spent his nights - because he now slept at night, like a human, and that too was because of Hiccup - curled up with his wing tucked around an empty space where Hiccup should have been.

So he stopped flying for enjoyment. The excitement of flying was leached away by the loneliness, so Toothless focused on finding the helmet so he could get back to Hiccup as soon as possible.

Because it turned out that Toothless wasn’t as content being alone as he had always thought he was.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Fishlegs had Meatlug _chained_ in a barn! In any other situation, Hiccup would have been furious. But really, was it that different from what Hiccup had done to Toothless? Like Meatlug, Toothless had wanted to leave but was unable to. Still, chaining their dragons was completely unacceptable, and Hiccup would be having _words_ with Fishlegs.

Eventually. Because when Hiccup had opened the barn doors to see what Fishlegs was hiding, Meatlug had snapped her chain and lunged out. She clearly had not expected to catch Hiccup on the way, who was frantically clinging to the Gronkle’s face, but she was free and wasn’t about to stop and drop Hiccup off.  

That was how Hiccup had ended up on the island filled with dragons. _Their_ dragons. Not only their dragons. There were plenty of unfamiliar dragons as well, but seeing Hookfang and Stormfly was a massive relief. But there was no Toothless. There wasn’t a single Night Fury on this island. That reinforced Hiccup’s belief that Toothless was the last of his kind, which was gut-wrenching and _horrible_ but didn’t explain where Hiccup’s friend was. He searched the entire island before he was forced to acknowledge that Toothless definitely wasn’t there. Which meant he was back to waiting for Toothless to come back on his own.

Which was looking more and more unlikely.

He hadn’t meant to trigger the dragons’ premature return to Berk. He had just wanted to get back in time for his first real Snoggletog, and be there in case Toothless returned. But apparently seeing Hookfang - who was far sweeter and more docile with Hiccup than he was with Snotlout - carrying Hiccup back into the sky reminded the dragons that they have people waiting for them. But the baby dragons’ wings were too undeveloped to handle the frigid wind, and they were just blown back when they tried to follow their parents. The dragons hesitated, looking miserably back at their hatchlings and towards Berk, and back to the babies. But Hiccup was a genius, and he immediately knew what to do.  

He was pretty proud of himself for being able to get that many dragons to work together and understand what he wanted. It wasn’t easy, but soon they were approaching Berk with a broken ship full of hatchlings, suspended on ropes held by dozens of dragons. Hiccup had always had a dramatic flair. Blame it on his Southern roots. But when the ship crashed down in a controlled descent, he felt pretty damn pleased with himself. But not nearly as pleased as when he watched Vikings race forward to greet their dragons with unashamed tears in their eyes. Looking at them now, it was hard to believe that at the same time the year before, they’d been bragging about all the dragons they had killed, and showing off weapons stained with dragon blood that they hadn’t cleaned in their pride. Now, little kids were scooping up hatchlings and racing to their parents to beg for permission to keep them while the adult dragons looked on with faint amusement. Berk was a new place. One that depended on the dragons, not only for safety and heat and hunting, but for love and friendship. Berk was raising a new generation of children, kids who were picking out hatchlings that they were going to grow up alongside of. Hiccup tried to imagine a life where he had grown up with Toothless, a life without ever knowing fear or loneliness. He had a lot to be proud of. He was a genius, a Viking, son of a Chief. But more than anything, he was proud of this. He was proud to have brought the dragons and Vikings together.

The only thing that soured the scene was the absence of his own dragon.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *    

It took Toothless three days the find the helmet. It was an unbelievable relief when he saw it under the water. He had grabbed it and immediately raced back to the Viking nest, back to Hiccup. It wasn’t hard to find the boy. All the Vikings, and the nesting dragons that had returned early for whatever reason, were in place that they called ‘ _The Great Hall’_. The door wasn’t closed all the way, to allow human hatchlings and dragons to go in and out as they pleased. Toothless nudged it open, excitement causing his wingtips to shiver. He readjusted the helmet in his mouth as he walked in. A female Viking pointed him out to her mate, but Toothless wasn’t interested in her. There was only one Viking Toothless was interested in, and he was wrapped in the front legs of his violent female, a sign of human affection as Toothless understood it. She noticed Toothless first, because Hiccup was facing the wrong way and his dull, human senses meant he didn’t notice Toothless, even though Toothless’s wasn’t making an effort to go unnoticed. In her typical way, she used mild violence to get what she wanted, shoving Hiccup and laughing cruelly before striking him on the Hiccup’s front leg, as she was prone to doing. But Hiccup didn’t seem to mind, so Toothless never interfered. This time though, she didn’t wait long before ending her game, probably knowing Toothless didn’t have much patience at the moment and he needed to see Hiccup _right now_. So she shoved Hiccup towards Toothless, baring her teeth in that way that Toothless had learned wasn’t aggression, but a smile.

Hiccup cried out Toothless’s name, and leapt forward. Excited, Toothless crouched for a moment, tail wiggling, before he too leapt forward. He pulled up in front his his little Viking, wingtips trailing on the ground as he sat back on his hind legs. Hiccup hesitated, front paws held out as if he was afraid Toothless would run if he reached out.

It was that moment, that little moment, when Toothless understood.

Hiccup wasn’t upset about his helmet. At least, not completely. He was unhappy because of _Toothless_ , because Toothless had avoided him then left him. And now he was afraid that Toothless would leave him again. Before the guilt could fully set in, Hiccup suddenly lunged forward and wrapped his front legs around Toothless’s neck the way his female Astrid had done to him. Toothless froze, blinking in surprise. It should have upset him. Hiccup had his front legs tightly around his neck, like a snake strangling its prey, with his teeth inches from Toothless’s throat. Toothless should have been flinching back and baring his teeth in instinctive aggression. But Hiccup wasn’t holding him nearly tight enough to restrict Toothless’s breathing, and Hiccup’s dull, human teeth could never cut through Toothless’s scales. But even if they could, Toothless had nothing to fear from his little human. Because Hiccup loved Toothless as much as Toothless loved his little Viking.

Hiccup pushed back, and there was salty water in his eyes that Toothless never knew if it meant that Hiccup was very unhappy or very happy, since the water tended to appear for both.

“Bad dragon!” Hiccup scolded, but his voice was happy so Toothless wasn’t bothered. Hiccup waved one of his soft-claws around in circles, and Toothless’s eyes followed the motion for a moment before being drawn back to Hiccup’s much-missed face. “Very bad dragon! You scared me to death! Never stay away that long again, and what is in your mouth?”

Toothless happily deposited the fruits of his labor onto its rightful place on Hiccup’s head. The Vikings made disgusted noises, but Toothless had learned long ago that humans didn’t appreciate the use of saliva in social grooming unless it was between mates. Didn’t mean he had to follow their ridiculous rules. He sat back and happily licked his lips to get rid of the metal taste, staring expectantly at Hiccup. It took a moment. At first Hiccup just laughed in that long-suffering way he did when Toothless licked him, and wiped saliva from his eyes. Then his eyes went wide as he realized what Toothless had done, and he grabbed the helmet without taking it from his head.

Hiccup reached out to grasp Toothless’s jaw on either side, staring into his eyes and blinking slowly in the way that Toothless had taught him means _love you_ in his language. Toothless purred loudly and nudged harder at Hiccup’s face.

“Buddy, thank you,” Hiccup said, his voice soft. “You are amazing.”

Then Hiccup reached forward, without hesitation this time, to wrap his front legs around him again. It was a long time before he let go. When he finally did, he didn’t stray far. Hiccup’s female laughed happily and came forward to greet Toothless, now that Hiccup was done. Then came Hiccup’s sire who had also become Toothless’s friend, and the slightly-mad male missing two paws who smelled of metal. And more. Many Vikings came forward to pet Toothless, and scratch his itchy spots. Hiccup stayed right at Toothless’s side, his front paw on Toothless’s shoulder.

Toothless vowed to never again let Hiccup feel alone. Toothless would stay right by his side.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The next morning, the ground was covered in a thick layer of snow. It was early, and the Vikings were still sleeping so the snow was undisturbed. An impatient yowl from Toothless had Hiccup grinning and calling back. But when he rounded the house, Toothless was sitting on the ground staring at him instead of pacing on the roof as he usually did. Hiccup stared blankly, not comprehending what was in front of him. Toothless had dragged out his old saddle and flight rig from under Hiccup’s bed and was sitting with it between him and Hiccup. But when Hiccup tried to push it aside and reach for Toothless, the dragon stood up and paced away, not letting Hiccup get on his back. Hiccup stared at him in confusion. Toothless knew he could fly with the new prosthetic. Hell, he spent three days flying with it.

“Toothless?” He asked. The dragon made an odd humming sound a lifted his tail, turning to look at it. He flexed his fin, and they both listened to the soft ring of the gears turning. Then Toothless looked at Hiccup, looked at the fin, and back at Hiccup. Then, pointedly, he raised his tail, without taking his eyes from Hiccup’s.     

And he smashed the automatic tailfin to pieces.

Immediately Hiccup cried out, “Toothless! _What are you doing_ \- stop!”

Toothless flung the pieces of the fin off the cliff Hiccup’s house was on. Hiccup stared blankly at Toothless, still not understanding. Toothless grabbed the edge of the saddle and dragged in front of him. He ducked his head, eyes guilty as if he thought Hiccup would be mad at Toothless for destroying the fin. He croaked softly and nudged the saddle his his paw, peeking up to see Hiccup’s reaction.

And finally, Hiccup understood what Toothless was telling him.

 _We fly together, or not at all._                          

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No episodes in this one, but it does include Gift of the Night Fury


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY! In my own defense, I did warn you that it might be a while before I got another chapter up. I have no excuse beyond the usual crap everyone says once they get deep in the story. "Finals, work, moving, writer's block, yada yada yada" you guys know what I mean. Hopefully I'll get through the next chapters quickly. Especially since it's almost time to send Tony back to the U.S! I'm thinking one more chapter like the last, a couple of chapters about his journey back South and why, and a few transition chapters, then we will start the Marvel movies! 
> 
> Also, I'm gonna add the Rider of Berk episode name here instead of at the end like usual, because this episode is important. Season one, episode 14, "What Flies Beneath". You don't need to have watched it to understand what's happening, but you might enjoy it more if you have. 
> 
> As always, thank you EchoMoonstone for betaing this!

Winter crept past. Snow blew for days on end, and it was even colder than the year before. But with the dragons’ presence in the Great Hall, the room was warmer even when the fire was low. Hiccup’s sixteenth birthday came shortly before Thawfest. When he had had his previous birthday, he hadn’t told anyone and no one had even known about the age change until Stoick had randomly asked when he would be turning fifteen. When he told the Chief that he had had his birthday over a month ago, the Chief had ducked his head, muttered something unintelligible, and hurried away. This year, Stoick seemed determined to make up for it. So he threw a massive feast for the entire village.

The sixteenth birthday for Vikings was the most important birthday. Hiccup knew that, so he didn’t argue about the party - much. When a Viking turned sixteen, they were considered an adult in the eyes of the village. But even at a birthday party, Viking feasts were all pretty much the same. So as Hiccup wandered through the Great Hall, Toothless at his right flank as always, he was slapped on the back hard enough to make him stumble and roared at in slurred voices by drunk Vikings. Hiccup offered patient smiles in return, and continued visiting. He knew it wasn’t necessary - Vikings knew how to have fun, and they didn’t need the target of the party checking up on them. But fourteen years of training from when he was still Tony Stark meant that he still felt the need to be a proper host and keep an eye on his guests. But a couple of hours into the party, he was suddenly grabbed and yanked towards the center of the room. His startled yelp matched Toothless’s as the dragon bounded after them.

“ _G_ _obber!”_

“What?” The Viking didn’t seem concerned about Hiccup’s protests as he dragged him to the center of the room, where Stoick was sitting at the round table by the fire.

“Ah, there ya are Hiccup!” Stoick, who had had a hearty dose of ale himself, lifted his mug towards Hiccup in a toast, a wide grin splitting his face.

“Hey Chief,” Hiccup answered, slightly suspicious. Toothless snorted and unhappily bumped his nose against Gobber’s hand where it was still wrapped around Hiccup’s arm. When Gobber didn’t seem to notice, Toothless huffed and moved to Hiccup’s other side, looking away as if that had been his plan the whole time.

Stoick stood up, and the Great Hall fell - not silent, but quieter. “Today, you become a man.”

Hiccup’s mouth snapped shut. Gobber let go of his arm, grinning like a loon.

Stoick was still talking. “Today, you officially become one of Berk’s warriors.”

Cheers rang out, bangs of mugs on tables. A few dragons raised their heads and roared at the noise. Toothless snorted and flattened his ear plates against the ruckus. Hiccup, without taking his attention off Stoick, gave his dragon a soothing stroke down the head.

Stoick raised his hand, and the Vikings fell - mostly - silent again. “Now, you are of age. Now, we can send you into battle as a man. But you, Hiccup, have been a warrior for a long time.”

Hiccup couldn’t help but snort. There were a lot of labels that could be applied to Hiccup. Dragon trainer. Dragon rider. Viking. Genius. Inventor. Blacksmith. Some still called him a Southerner. But warrior? That was one label that didn’t belong to him.

Stoick’s eyes narrowed slightly at Hiccup’s expression is disbelief. “You alone survived a shipwreck that killed everyone else aboard. You survived for days on a boat filled with air that was not meant for the open ocean. You survived, and even flourished, in a strange land filled with strange people. You shot down a Night Fury, and befriended it. You rode a dragon. You, after only a year of livin’ ‘ere, ended a war that we haven’ been able to end for three centuries. You told us we were _wrong,_  Hiccup.”

Now the room was dead silent. But no one offered a protest at Stoick’s words. Hiccup swallowed hard, his throat suddenly tight. Toothless crooned and bumped Hiccup’s shoulder with his nose.

Stoick picked up a second mug from the table, held it out. Hiccup inhaled, and took it. It was real ale, not watered down.

Stoick raised his mug higher, a grin once again lighting his face. “Now, let us see if you can drink as a man!”

Laugher and playful taunts broke out, and the serious atmosphere broke. Hiccup laughed and raised his mug towards Stoick’s before taking a huge swig. It wasn’t even close to his first drink. But it sure felt like it was. Instantly, he choked and his eyes started watering. The Vikings around him laughed goodnaturedly, and Gobber slapped him on the back hard enough that he knocked most of the ale left in Hiccup’s mug over the rim. The ale was _strong_. Much stronger than alcohol Hiccup was used to, even from the South. And it tasted even worse than the watered down stuff he was used to.

“Maybe you’ll haveta learn ta drink a wee bit slower than ya learned to ride that Night Fury of yers!” was Gobber’s helpful comment. The Viking was laughing so hard Hiccup was almost concerned that he wasn’t getting enough oxygen.

A loud, dragonic snort caught Hiccup’s attention and he looked at Toothless, whose tongue was hanging out as he frantically shook his head as if trying to shake something off of his tongue. Hiccup laughed, instantly knowing what had happened. Toothless was into everything Hiccup ever ate, and always wanted to try it. Hiccup could never simply sit and eat without a dragon nose pushing between his food and his mouth. Toothless rarely liked what Hiccup ate, since he was a carnivore and really only liked meat. He would accept cooked and salted food, although Toothless really only enjoyed raw, fresh meat. But even with the low rate of success, the dragon still demanded a taste of whatever Hiccup was eating unless he had something better. Toothless must have lapped up some of the ale that had sloshed over his mug when Gobber slapped him on the back.   

The other Vikings, who also knew of Toothless’s pushy behavior towards Hiccup’s food, matched his laughter. The rest of the party passed quickly. Hiccup didn’t feel a need to get drunk, as he had at every single party he had ever attended in high school. But he did have fun, and drank enough of the horrible ale with the other teens who’d already had their sixteenth birthdays - Snotlout and Fishlegs - to feel pleasantly warm. He made sure to eat plenty of greasy food and drink water as well so he didn’t get too drunk. He had a few reason for this. Alcohol was firmly associated in his mind with Howard’s drunken screaming. Once, when he was still Tony Stark, he didn’t care if he ended up in the same fate. But now, he had friends, family, a tribe. He wanted to do better, to enjoy his life and make his people proud. He also wanted to remember this night, and getting blackout drunk was not helpful for that goal.

So he drank, but not too much. He lost an arm wrestling competition - not surprisingly - with Tuffnut. He debated with Fishlegs about the possibility of using dragons to log more wood. Fishlegs felt it was idiotic to use fire-breathing creatures to gather _wood,_ but Hiccup thought it was possible. He and Gobber talked about the Hiccup’s shield, which he had built but the wood he used wasn’t great against wild dragons. Or Outcasts for that matter. Gobber suggested just using iron, but that made it too heavy for Hiccup to comfortably wield. Hiccup thought of Captain America’s light, but immeasurably powerful shield. Too bad there wasn’t Vibranium he could use for his own shield.  He played maces and talons with Stoick, one of the only ones who could provide a challenge to Hiccup. He had _fun_ . Even the kids were there, playing with wooden swords and pretending to chase the more tolerant dragons around the room. And watching Pallab offer Toothless a fish in his one hand took Hiccup’s breath away. It had been almost two years since Toothless took down the tower that crushed Pallab’s arm, but the boy seemed completely unbothered to have his single remaining hand so close to the mouth of the creature that had crippled him. Toothless took the fish gently, then crooned sweetly and nudged the boy’s offered palm. Pallab giggled and ran back to his friends. Hiccup wondered if Toothless knew that he was responsible for the child’s missing hand. He doubted it. With the speeds that Toothless flew at, and without being slowed by a fragile human on his back, Toothless would have been long gone by the time the tower hit the ground. Hiccup marveled at the boy’s easy forgiveness, and wondered if he would have been able to do the same. Hiccup smiled as Pallab used what remained of his forearm to brace his wooden sword, and push back against his friend’s fake blade. The Viking life was a hard one, filled with dangers. He could see why they considered Southerners soft. Tony Stark would have been horrified by Hiccup. His hair was longer than Hiccup had ever worn it, with the curls brushing the nape of his neck in the back. He was missing a foot, and he was designing himself a _shield_ of all things. He was being taught to fight with a sword, from a Viking girl. He shaved with a knife, and rubbed yak fat into his skin to prevent ingrown hairs. He bathed in icy cold ponds. He ate food cooked over an open fire with little to no seasoning. He rode a Night Fury, a mystical creature that wasn’t quite as much of a myth as he was made out to be. So, while Tony Stark might have hated everything about who he was now, Hiccup couldn’t be happier.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

_“Footwork!_ ”

Astrid’s order was barked out even as she hooked her foot behind Hiccup’s prosthetic and threw him to the ground. Hiccup gasped, stunned by the hard landing, and made a shaky attempt to get back up. Astrid planted her foot firmly against his collarbone and lightly touched her blade to his forehead. If it was a true fight, he knew her foot would be on his throat and her sword through his skull. Toothless whined unhappily.

“Yield,” Hiccup grunted. Immediately, Astrid’s foot left his chest and she sheathed her practice blade. She offered him a hand, and he let her hoist him back to his feet.

“You’re too impatient,” she told him. “Let your opponent come to you. When fighting someone bigger than you, one hit could be all it takes to disable or even kill you.So your first priority needs to be to protect yourself, to dodge all attacks. Try to avoid blocking; they’re stronger than you, and even if you manage to hold the block, you’re going to wear yourself out.”

Hiccup groaned, reaching up with his sword hand to wipe sweat off his brow. “Astrid, we’ve been going around and around with the same things for almost a year. If I haven’t gotten it by now, I’m not going to.”

Astrid punched him in the shoulder, making him yelp and give her a mock-scowl. “Yes, you will. You just need to actually _try_.”

Hiccup threw his hands in the air, careful of the practice sword he was still holding. “You think I’m not trying! For god’s sake Astrid, I don’t actually _like_ getting knocked to the ground everyday you know!”

Astrid’s eyes narrowed at his tone. “Watch it,” she warned. “An you may not like getting thrown around, but you think this is unnecessary and dumb. You’re a peacekeeper Hiccup, you don’t like to fight. But like it or not, you have to be able to defend yourself.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes and sheathed his own blade, since they were apparently going to _talk_. “We’ve been at peace with the dragons for a year now. We’ve been fighting the Outcasts for nearly that long. Nothing has happened that I need to be able to fight for. The dragons are more than enough to push the Outcasts back. And Toothless is a Night Fury! A _Night! Fury!_ ” Toothless snorted as if he agreed.

Astrid huffed at him like he was an idiot child unwilling to listen to his elders. “Nothing has happened _yet_ , Hiccup. And a lot of the time spent since we’ve started fighting the Outcasts has been during the freeze, when it’s too cold to leave the fire, let alone sail to another island and fight. And so far, we’ve only gone up against one tribe. There are plenty more out there, Hiccup. We haven’t even dealt with the Berserkers yet, since their Chief had some health issue.”

“Stoick doesn’t plan on telling the Berserkers about the dragons, not yet anyway. He wants to wait until we’ve dealt with the Outcasts.”

“That’s not the _point_ Hiccup!” Astrid took a deep breath, quieted her voice. “Listen. You said that your father from the South used to create weapons to protect his people.”

Hiccup frowned, startled and not too pleased about the sudden change in topic. “Yeah? What’s your point?”

“My _point_ is that you can’t do that. You’re a Viking, Hiccup.” Now she stepped forward, lightly brushed her fingers across his back. His face heated and his thoughts tried to scatter. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on what Astrid was saying, because she clearly had a point she was trying to make.

“You’re one of the best Vikings we’ve ever had. ‘The Pride of Berk.’ Stoick doesn’t call you that for nothing. But you still have a tendency to think like a Southerner on some things. You think that if we flash scary weapons at our enemies - in this case, the dragons -”

Hiccup interrupted her, his voice heated. “The dragons are _not weapons!_ They’re our friends! They -”

“I know that Hiccup. And I know you know that. But they are our greatest protection now, and you are still thinking that they’re all we need to keep our tribe safe. But you trained the dragons, you ride one of the most powerful and coveted dragons in existence, and you’re the accepted son of Stoick the Vast. You’re a huge target, Hiccup. If anything ever happens, and you get separated from Toothless, you need to be able to protect yourself. We need you, Hiccup.”

Astrid reached out towards Toothless, and the dragon trotted forward to rub his face against the offered hand before circling behind Hiccup and purring. “ _H_ _e_ needs you,” Astrid murmured.

Hiccup didn’t say anything. He averted his eyes, and stared at Toothless. The dragon warbled softly and nudged Hiccup’s face with his nose. Hiccup reached up with both hands to grip Toothless’s jaw on either side, and drew in a slightly shaky breath. Was he still thinking like a Southerner? He still used his education, and he probably applied some bias to certain things because of his upbringing. He felt like that was okay, but that wasn’t what Astrid was talking about. Astrid was saying that he was thinking like _Howard_. That he was acting as if he could create peace just by brandishing the biggest stick. Which might work with Southern countries, but would never work with Vikings. He leaned his forehead against Toothless’s and squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly afraid that he would be sick. Toothless purred soothingly and pushed back against Hiccup’s head, the pressure grounding. Hiccup had _never_ wanted to behave like Howard. Never.

A hand brushed his shoulder, then carefully crept up to gently grip the back of his neck. “Hiccup?”

He took another deep breath and swallowed hard, forcing the ridiculous tears back before they could fall. Then he opened his eyes and straightened up. Astrid’s hand slid back down to his back, but she didn’t take away her touch.

“Are you okay?” she asked, worried. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Hiccup nodded, sharp and fast. “Yeah. Yes. I’m good. You’re right. I’ve just - I’ve never. Thought of it. I guess. I just - I thought that the dragons would be enough and - I guess I -”

“Hey, calm down,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing. “It’s okay. Let’s stop for the day, alright? Get some rest. We can practice longer tomorrow to make up for it.”

Hiccup set his shoulders back, determination suddenly flooding him. “No. Let’s keep going.”

A Southerner would have asked if he was sure. Astrid just smirked and drew her sword.  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When Toothless sniffed at the holes in the ground that were surrounding the Viking nest, he felt like he had been struck. Because he _knew_ that scent. He was only a hatchling the last time he smelled it, but the horror and grief that followed it would never leave him. He flared out his wings and _screamed_ into the hole. The Vikings were talking around him and Hiccup was trying to get his attention, but Toothless wasn’t listening. He leapt into the hole created by the Ground Hunter, snarling at the _horrible_ scent surrounding him. The dragon responsible didn’t answer. Toothless lunged into the cave with the freshest scent, and started tracking the dragon.

The earth shuddered, and Toothless paused, listening. He could hear the harsh _shhhhhh_ of the Ground Hunter moving through the ground. He bared his teeth and picked up the pace, wanting to catch the dragon above ground.

When Toothless reached the surface, he found his friends back in the air with their Vikings on their backs, trying to push the Ground Hunter back. But his life wasn’t theirs’ to take.

It was Toothless’s.

The other dragons backed off at Toothless’s threat, and could not be persuaded forward by their Vikings. Toothless lowered his chin and _roared._ The Ground Hunter answered his challenge with a shriek of his own. Toothless fired three blasts, but the Ground Hunter was too far away and had little trouble dodging. Toothless lifted his wings and leapt into the air without thinking. He didn’t make it far before the air shifted out from under him and he crashed back down. He snarled in frustration, and even though he knew better he kept trying. Because he _had_ to fly. He _had_ to. Toothless remembered the strength of this Ground Hunter all too well, and Toothless _couldn’t_ be grounded and win. He saw the moment the Ground Hunter realized that Toothless was crippled. His disgusting, soulless eyes narrowed. The Ground Hunter flew further away from the Vikings and Toothless took off after him. Toothless shoved away the touch to his shoulder, and when he heard Hiccup’s stunned and hurt exclamation, he stopped and looked back. Hiccup was on the ground but uninjured. Toothless looked back at the Ground Hunter, back at Hiccup, then snarled and took off again. Hiccup would forgive him. Toothless knew he would. But he _had_ to do this.

The Ground Hunter turned back to Toothless, hissing. Toothless, even though he knew it was useless, couldn’t stop himself from leaping back into the air, only to crash down again. He was flailing in the air when the Ground Hunter struck. He flung the spikes on his tail at Toothless, and because Toothless was falling he was unable to dodge. The spike struck just above his hind leg, and he instinctively twisted to snap at it. Before either Toothless or the Ground Hunter could make another move, the Vikings struck. The rock hit the Ground Hunter, and it dove back under ground. Toothless snarled in frustration listening to it race away. The familiar squeaking of Hiccup’s false-paw had Toothless’s head snapping around. Hiccup hesitated, and Toothless softened. He lowered his head and crooned a soft reassurance. Hiccup wrapped his front paws around the spike still stuck in Toothless’s scales and glanced at Toothless. When the Dark Scaled simply huffed, Hiccup pulled it out. It stung, but it wasn’t a bad wound. His scales took most of the hit, and only the very tip of the spike actually pieced him. He would deal with it later. He took off in the direction the Ground Hunter had gone. Hiccup called after him, but Toothless ignored him, fidgeting restlessly near the cliff the Ground Hunter had tunneled under.

Toothless paced the Viking nest all day, but the Ground Hunter didn’t reappear. Hiccup was clearly worried, and some small part of Toothless felt bad about it, but the rest of him was consumed with thoughts of vengeance. He had caught a glimpse of the scar Toothless’s sire had left on the Ground Hunter’s tail. The only mark on the disgusting dragon’s body that showed what he had done to Toothless’s life, to his predecessors.

Toothless was only a hatchling, with no fire, no teeth, and only stubby claws. He was all wings and tail, clumsy as all hatchlings are. He was flying with his sire, who was moving slow and keeping an eye on the little hatchling he was teaching to hunt. His mother had been resting back in the cave that was high in the mountain they had decided to sleep in. But Toothless and his sire were still close enough to hear her scream, and the awful cutoff of the noise that Toothless would have nightmares about for long after the fact. Toothless’s sire had screamed in reply, and lunged forward. Toothless had cried out and struggled to keep up, his hunting excitement instantly replaced with terror. But his sire had bolted ahead and left the hatchling behind. By the time Toothless caught up, he was met with a scene like nothing he had ever seen before. The elder Dark Scaled was on the blood-soaked ground, wailing. Next to him was his mate. Toothless’s mother’s belly was torn open, her organs spilled out on the ground. Her blood steamed in the chilly night air. Her tongue, the tongue that cleaned Toothless when he was hunting small rodents in the mud, that soothed him when bigger dragons hissed at him, was lolled out onto the dirty ground. Her gums were already turning white with death.  

Toothless had tried to nudge her with his nose, but her internal fires were out, and she was rapidly turning cold. Toothless’s sire was inconsolable. He didn’t even seem to realize that Toothless was there. Toothless spent the day shivering with fear and huddling by his mother’s stiffening body. The next night, Toothless’s sire seemed to pull himself together. He stepped away from his mate with short, sharp steps. As if it physically pained him. He sniffed the hole in the ground, a hole that had not been there earlier, and snarled. Toothless crept forward, tail trailing and wings pulled in as tight as he could manage, to sniff the hole as well. He flinched back with a whine. The hole smelled of unfamiliar dragon, and of his mother’s blood. Like a dragon had gone _through_ the ground, and attacked his mother from underneath. Which would turn out to be exactly what had happened.

The next months were nightmarish. Toothless’s sire was single-minded in his thirst for vengeance. He rarely thought of hunting, and he and Toothless both grew thin. Toothless struggled to keep up when they flew, and often cried out in exhaustion and hunger. When Toothless’s sire noticed, he would immediately pull up and croon an apology, then slow down and hunt to feed his starving hatchling. He didn’t notice very often. In the time it took for Toothless’s sire to track down the Ground Hunter, Toothless’s body had lengthened and his wings had strengthened. But he was still only a hatchling, and a thin one at that, completely dependent on his sire for his survival. So he could do nothing but watch as the two dragon’s clashed. The Ground Hunter was large even for his species, and Toothless’s sire was thin and weak from his desperate search. Still, he was a Dark Scaled, and the fight was brutal. The Ground Hunter fled when Toothless’s sire bit into his tail, ripping out scales and flesh. The elder Dark Scaled tried to follow him, but the earth was the Ground Hunter’s territory and he knew it well. Toothless’s sire had snarled in frustration and grief, and returned to Toothless.

His sire had gained a wound on his right shoulder during the fight. It was not a serious wound, and should have been little cause for concern. But in his tunnel vision, the Dark Scaled refused to tend it. It rotted, reeking of death and leaking smelly juices. Toothless tried to lick it whenever they landed, but his sire pushed him away and simply returned to the skies, to his hunt. The wound got worse. His sire’s scales turned dull, and his body burned unnaturally hot. The dragon was already thin, but soon his bones could be seen even through his scales. Until one night, when Toothless woke naturally instead of being nudged awake from his sire to resume their never-ending hunt. He had turned to bump his nose against the other dragon’s side, but his sire’s scales were cold to the touch and his body was stiff. As his mother’s had been.

It had taken time for Toothless to accept that he was alone, to grieve. He was left alone in a world as only a vulnerable hatchling, whose teeth had not yet come in, whose fire was developing but still only weak sparks that he had little control over, whose claws were short and harmless. It would have been a death sentence for any hatchling. But Toothless survived, through sheer determination. He ate things no dragon would ever touch, whimpered and begged his way through confrontations with other dragons and fled when that didn’t work. He _survived_.

Then, he was ensnared by the Queen, forced to fight Vikings to feed Her. Until one day, he was struck by flying ropes, crippled and trapped, and left to die a weak death just as his sire had. But instead of dying, he made his first friend, and found someone to care about after a life of being alone.

Toothless would do anything to protect his friendship with the little Viking who saved him. But this was _his_ fight, and his alone.

That night, after Hiccup fell asleep, Toothless took up his sire’s hunt.            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Care to tell me your thoughts? And I would love to read your theories on what sends Tony back to the South!


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm sorry for the wait! This chapter is a bit longer, so I hope that makes up for it. A few things to celebrate! We're almost to 700 kudos! This story started out as an idea I wasn't really sure I even had the patience to write, especially since I don't consider myself a writer. I'd never written fanfic before, and since it's such an uncommon crossover, I didn't see anyone being interested in it. This has been a very pleasant surprise! Now, the story has nearly 700 kudos, has comments on every single chapter, and even a beta! Thank you guys so much! Also, if anyone has any art skills (I don't) and decides to make something related to this story, I'd love to know so I could link it for readers! 
> 
> This story also just hit 100,000 words. When I was planning this story, I was worried that I'd rush everything and it wouldn't feel natural. I'd planned for the entire story to be around 100,000 words. Now, we just hit that landmark, and Tony's still on Berk! I can definitely say I'm not rushing it. Hopefully it feels natural and plausible (as plausible as a story about dragons could be) as well. 
> 
> This is the last chapter about Tony's time growing up on Berk. The next chapter is about the circumstances surrounding his return to America. I'm thinking two more chapters, and Tony will be back in the U.S. If you didn't already, please comment and let me know what you think will cause him to go back! I love reading your speculation! 
> 
> Thank you EchoMoonstone for betaing!

Hiccup didn’t know what to do. Toothless clearly had some issue with the Whispering Death, and Hiccup didn’t know what it was. His Night Fury had never acted particularly territorial before, and they had faced aggressive dragons plenty of times. But now, it was like Toothless didn’t _want_ Hiccup’s help. Toothless had _fired_ at him. Well, not directly at him of course, but at the ground in front of him. Toothless couldn’t have made his point more clear if he’d spoken plain English. _Stay out of it_.

Well, tough shit Toothless. That Whispering Death was dangerous. It had _hurt_ Toothless. Hiccup wasn’t going to stand around like an idiot damsel in distress in some cheap movie, wringing his hands and fluttering around uselessly. Toothless protects Hiccup, and Hiccup protects Toothless. That was their way.

Toothless had settled a bit that night, but was still tense. The sound of the stairs creaking had the dragon’s head snapping up, teeth bared.

“Easy bud, easy,” Hiccup soothed. “It’s just the Chief.” Toothless snorted and shook his head like a spooked horse. Stoick greeted them, cheery and unconcerned, petting Toothless’s head. Stoick seemed to take Hiccup’s word for it that Toothless was still acting off, but the Chief didn’t seem too worried. Hiccup wondered if he was overreacting. Maybe Toothless _was_ fine. After all, he let Stoick pet him without flinching away or growling. He also didn’t lean into the touch like he usually did. But Hiccup was tense and worried, and Toothless tended to feed off his emotions. Of course, that went both ways. Maybe they were just winding each other up.

So Hiccup got Toothless settled onto his bed, the dragon’s fire lighting the room as he heated the rock before curling up into his usual loose ball. He kept an eye on the dragon, who was practically invisible once Hiccup blew out his candle, with only the light from the moon to cast shadows over Hiccup’s bed. But Toothless didn’t move, so Hiccup finally relaxed into sleep.

Hiccup didn’t have many nightmares anymore. Once he had settled with the Vikings, accepted them, the nightmares became more and more uncommon. He could count on one hand the amount of nightmares he’d had since Toothless started sharing a room with him. But that night, the dreams came back. But different. He still felt that awful rocking, the sickening movement of the ocean swaying beneath the raft. But he wasn’t on the raft. He was below the water, but he wasn’t drowning. Instead, he was screaming and staring into his mother’s half-decomposed face as fish nibbled at what was left of her eyes.

He came awake to his own screams, and a rough hand shaking his shoulder. He gasped in a ragged breath, the salt-scented water that drenched his hair making him think for one hysterical moment that he _had_ been below the ocean’s surface after all. But then he registered Stoick’s frantic voice, and realized with a strong sense of relief that it was just a dream, and his hair was damp with sweat, not sea water. His face was crushed into Stoick’s wiry beard, the Viking’s massive hand cradling the back of his head. Stoick was repeating a series of words that weren’t registering in Hiccup’s mind, probably simple words meant to comfort. But Hiccup fought Stoick’s grip, panic suddenly rippling to life for a completely different reason.

Because Stoick shouldn’t have been the one to wake him.

Stoick loosened his grip in surprise, and Hiccup wiggled free. He stared in horror at Toothless’s bed.

His _empty_ bed.

He tried to lung out of bed, only to fall flat on his face. Snarling curses, he fumbled for his prosthetic and yanked it into place, hurriedly jerking the straps around what remained of his calf.  Ignoring Stoick’s calls, he bolted down the stairs and shoved outside, chilly wind blasting him and pebbling his skin. He heard the Chief’s heavy steps pounding down after him, but ignored him. He called Toothless’s name once, twice. Nothing but the wind answered him. A heavy hand dropped onto his shoulder, but the Chief was quiet now. He had clearly realized what Hiccup was upset about now.

Because Toothless had gone after the Whispering Death.

 _Alone_.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  

The first thing he did, of course, was gather the other riders. They were his friends, his team, and he knew without a shadow of doubt that they would do everything they possibly could to help him. Even as Snotlout sneered and laughed at him, he was there, in the Academy, Hookfang at his back. He may act big, but Hiccup remembered all too well how it felt to be held to an impossible standard, and seeing the way Spitelout treated him during Thawfest answered a lot of questions. So Hiccup looked passed his cruel words and harsh laughter, and instead focused on the fact that he was _there_ , offering his help and his moral support with just his presence.

So he gathered his team, and made a plan. He was going to train that Whispering Death, and get it off of Berk. Toothless didn’t like that dragon, so Hiccup would get it away from their home. But it was still a dragon, and Hiccup wouldn’t hurt it. So, he had Fishlegs read off everything they knew about Whispering Deaths from the Book of Dragons. But the Book of Dragons was still in the process of being converted from a dragon-killing manual, into a dragon training manual. Everything that was listed about Whispering Deaths were things that were supposed to be helpful in a fight, not things meant to win its trust. But hell, he’d trained Toothless, a Night Fury, when he knew _nothing_ about dragons. He could train the Whispering Death. He knew he could.

He refused to think about how Toothless’s sweet disposition was the only reason that that ended as well as it had.

So he climbed onto Stormfly’s back, and offered a hand to Astrid. She hopped into the saddle in front of him, and directed her dragon out of the Academy. Stormfly’s flight pattern was different to Toothless’s, of course. Her wings were smaller, and she had to beat them more often. There was less motion when she did, less of a sweeping, up and down movement. She didn’t have any tailfins, and needed no prosthetic to help her fly. There was nothing wrong with the way Stormfly flew, but Hiccup missed Toothless so strongly he ached. _We fly together, or not at all_.

They spotted the holes from a mile off. They were large enough to be highly noticeable. The Whispering Death was certainly getting around the island.  The dragons landed, and as his friends joked and talked, Hiccup inspected the holes and the area around them. They were large, clearly belonging to the dragon that had attacked the village.

“Look at this,” Hiccup murmured, his worry momentarily suspended to make room for fascination. He picked up the jagged, yellow fang from the ground. “He must’a lost a tooth.”

“Is it sharp? If it is, I want it. I _like_ sharp.”

“Yeah. Sharp is _good_.”

Hiccup ignored the twins. He listened to Fishlegs half-panicked description of the Whispering Death, then glanced over at the dragons. The very spooked dragons. Hissing filled the air. No, not hissing. _Whispering_.

“Looks like we beat Toothless,” Snotlout whimpered.

“Yeah,” Astrid snarled. “We win.”

The Whispering Death burst out of the ground, stones and clumps of dirt flying off it. Hiccup watched it closely, looking for any sign that it could be trained. It went straight to Fishlegs – drawn in by his whimpering, maybe? – and leaned in close, letting out high-pitched little shrieks. Hiccup wondered if it was sniffing him, or maybe trying to see. It spent most of its life underground, it probably didn’t see too well. Maybe it navigated by scent, like moles? But it didn’t immediately attack Fishlegs, which was a good a sign as any that it might be possible to train it.  But Fishlegs’s Gronkle Meatlug snarled protectively, and all the other dragons joined in. The Whispering Death screamed angrily and dove back underground. The earth shuddered with the force of a dragon drilling through it, and the whispering of the dragon’s scales against tightly-packed dirt once more filled the air. Hiccup’s friends murmured among each other, but Hiccup stayed quiet, ears straining. The dragon burst into the air behind Fishlegs, sending him running for his dragon with screams on his lips. Tuffnut cooed happily and trotted forward, but Ruffnut thankfully yanked him back before he could try to pet the Whispering Death. Hiccup squared his shoulders, determination flooding him. He could do this. He _had_ to. He walked forwards, his steps even. The dragon burrowed down, its face half buried, and started forward. Hiccup closed his eyes, turned his head away, and held out his hand.

Everything stopped. It was silent. Even Snotlout was quiet. Hot breath puffed onto his palm, and Hiccup carefully peeked out. The dragon was frozen, clearly caught by surprise.  It sniffed his hand, hesitating. That was a good sign. Hiccup held his breath, hoping against hope that scales would touch his palm.

No such luck. But at least he didn’t lose another limb. The Whispering Death whipped around, its tail snapping like a whip, and dove back into the earth. Hiccup ran after it and eyeballed the hole. Didn’t look too deep. Astrid tried to stop him, and he heard her groan as he leapt into the hole. Well, she was always preaching about his first priority being defense during their training fights. Chasing dragons into their territory wasn’t a very defensive maneuver. But this wasn’t a fight, and it was important. He had to protect Toothless, and the only way he could do that was to train the dragon and take it away from Berk. Fishlegs slammed gracelessly onto the ground behind him.

Hiccup blinked in surprise, and said “Oh, thanks Fishlegs. Kinda figured you’d be the last one to volunteer.”

Fishlegs’s nervous babbling indicated that it wasn’t really his idea to join Hiccup in the hole. Oh well. He was there, and honestly, there was no one else Hiccup would rather have with him. Fishlegs’s knowledge of the Book of Dragons would be incredibly helpful, as well as his impressive observation skills. He wouldn’t be very helpful in a fight, but trapped in the Whispering Death’s territory without their dragons, none of them would really stand a chance. He looked around in amazement. Bucket was right when he had said that it was like a village. Dozens of tunnels, all interconnected, weaved through the earth. Tree roots hung from the ceiling. He and Fishlegs crept forward carefully. Growls echoed through the tunnels. He yanked Fishlegs back just in time to avoid being seen by the Whispering Death as it blew through one of the connecting tunnels. Fishlegs whimpered. Hiccup had to tempt him into following the dragon with Hiccup with the promise of learning more about a new dragon. Fishlegs was not a brave Viking, but Hiccup could always count on his interest and curiosity.

They cautiously moved through the tunnel, looking around for anything that might help them. There was nothing to see. Hiccup wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Hand-written instructions? ‘This is how to train me, by the Whispering Death that Toothless is itching to fight.” Instead, there were only dirt and stone covered walls. Fishlegs squealed with terror at the sight of eyes staring out at them from a dark tunnel. Hiccup tensed, his mind racing to come up with a plan. Before he could decide what to do, the eyes moved and a sheep leapt out, bleating in a mildly stressed voice. Berk’s sheep were getting pretty used to being thrown around by dragons. Hiccup and Fishlegs both sighed with relief and continued on.

The Whispering Death snapped around the corner and shrieked. Hiccup shoved Fishlegs into a neighboring tunnel and pressed his back to the wall. He clapped his hand over Fishlegs’s mouth to cut off whatever he was about to say, and held his breath. The dragon lazily slid past them, its body squirming like a snake. It stopped abruptly, the spikes covering its body snapping straight out to lock it into place. Hiccup wondered what it had noticed. He hoped it wasn’t his friends, probably still waiting above ground. Fishlegs excitedly shook his shoulder, and pointed to the dragon’s tail that was in front of them. Hiccup’s eyes widened at the sight of white, ragged scars spread out in a familiar pattern. The dragon lurched forward again, and quickly vanished from view.

“Did you see that?” Fishlegs asked, almost bouncing in excitement.

“Was that a bite mark?” Hiccup demanded, his heart pounding. He already knew the answer.

“Not just any bite mark,” Fishlegs breathed, eyes wide. “That was a _Night Fury_ bite mark.”  

Hiccup exhaled. It answered several questions, and raised many more. Now he knew that it wasn’t Whispering Deaths Toothless had an issue with, but _this_ Whispering Death. The two must have fought some point before Toothless was caught by the Red Death. Hiccup wondered how it ended with both dragons alive, and still so angry with each other. He wondered what crime was so unforgivable that the grudge would be held for so long. Toothless had clearly hurt the other dragon, judging by how harshly the scar stood out. Yet, he didn’t, or couldn’t, finish the job. Maybe the other dragon had escaped underground. Hiccup shook his head. He’d probably never know. He might not be even close to right. And it didn’t matter. Whatever had happened in the past, the Whispering Death was a threat _now_. And Hiccup was going to protect Toothless.  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Training the Whispering Death was a huge fail. It snapped its teeth at Hiccup’s offer of Dragon Nip, scattering it in the wind and pretty much sedating the other dragons. It seemed to have no interest in making friends; in fact, after smelling Hiccup it seemed to become even more angry. Hiccup wondered if it was Toothless’s scent that infuriated the Whispering Death.  It was only the timely arrival of his Night Fury that prevented the furious wild dragon from killing Hiccup. Toothless managed to use the propulsion from his wide wings to throw the considerably larger Whispering Death across the field. The dragon escaped underground, and Toothless once again ran from Hiccup. And once again, the dragon fired at the ground in front of him when Hiccup chased after him.

In the end, it took pretty dramatic measures to bring Toothless around. He was forced to watch, heart in his throat, as the Whispering Death pushed Toothless closer and closer to the edge of the cliff the two were fighting on.

Toothless was refusing to let Hiccup help him. Hiccup felt confident that Snotlout was right when he said that Toothless wasn’t doing this in some misguided attempt to protect Hiccup, and that he simply wanted the Whispering Death to himself, but he knew that Toothless’s anger towards the other dragon was not stronger than his loyalty to Hiccup. So he did the only thing he could think of that he _knew_ would get Toothless’s attention.

He stepped off the cliff, and he let himself fall.  

He heard Toothless’s shocked cry, and stared at the sky as the wind rushed by. He wasn’t afraid.

Sure enough, Toothless leapt after him without hesitation, wings beating to reach Hiccup’s falling form quicker. Hiccup pulled himself into the saddle and felt himself click into place, at one with Toothless, _where he belonged_. He kicked open the tailfin, and Toothless barely managed to pull up in time. His scales scraped loudly against the ground and dust blasted up around them, but they made it. He heard the other riders cheering as he and Toothless swept around to take on the Whispering Death.

Fishlegs - brilliant, brilliant Fishlegs - was the one who figured it out. So Hiccup had Toothless fire into the holes the Whispering Death was hiding in and flood them with light, driving it back above ground. Toothless screamed with anger and tackled the dragon, pinning it to the ground. Toothless snarled furiously, teeth out and inches away from the Whispering Death’s iris-less eyes.

“No Toothless!” Hiccup cried, horror filling him. Toothless was his, and he would _always_ be Hiccup’s best friend, no matter what. But Hiccup wasn’t sure he could stand seeing Toothless cold-bloodily murder a dragon, that was pinned and helpless, no matter what fight the two of them had had in the past. Toothless glanced back at him, then glared down at the dragon again. He let out another furious roar and bared his teeth, wings flared out aggressively. The Whispering Death let out one of those high-pitched little shrieks that seemed to be its normal vocalizations, and didn’t try to escape Toothless’s hold. There was a long moment where all three of them were frozen.

Then Hiccup felt Toothless’s muscles loosen under the saddle. Toothless leapt off the Whispering Death, and the dragon didn’t hesitate to escape, its tail snapping against the ground as it dove below the surface. Hiccup sighed in relief, and then grinned like a fool as he scratched Toothless’s jaw in thanks.

Hiccup didn’t know why Toothless and the other dragon were so hell-bent on fighting. But he knew that his and Toothless’s bond was stronger than Toothless’s anger towards the Whispering Death. And really, he didn’t need to know anything else.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 _Two months later_.

Hiccup whooped in excitement when Toothless fired, taking down the Berserker’s catapult with a single shot. Toothless echoed his excitement as they swooped back up to take the point of the V-formation the riders were holding. Keeping the dragons secret from the Berserks had failed pretty quickly, and just as Stoick had feared, the Outcasts and the Berserkers had joined forces against Berk. But their dragons were still more than enough to drive the invaders back, and Hiccup was having a pretty good time doing it. The sounds of the battle, the rush of fast flight, the determination to protect Berk all stirred together into a pretty heady mix. He would still prefer that the enemy tribes would just go away of course. He didn’t _want_ to fight, but he wasn’t afraid of fighting the way he had been during the dragon raids. Before, he had felt small and helpless in the face of the dragons’ power. Now, perched on Toothless’s shoulders, he felt _mighty_.

And now, he worked as part of a team.

“Fighlegs, how are things looking on the ground?”

“There are Outcasts fighting alongside the Berserkers again, but there’s no sign of Alvin. Dagur is screaming something about you again, but he’s pretty occupied with trying to keep his people from retreating.”

Hiccup nodded, and leaned back a little to slow Toothless, who had his eye on a Berserkian that he wanted to go after. But Hiccup wasn’t done.

“Astrid, Fishlegs, go to town and focus on providing air support to whoever seems to need it. Snotlout, Ruff and Tuff, go to the beach. Take out a couple of ships to show them that we can, but leave most of them intact. We want them to be able to retreat. Work to push them back towards their ships. I’m going to focus on taking out large weapons.”

“Got it!” Astrid and Fishlegs called in unison, and peeled off towards the center of the village.

“I call the biggest ship!” Tuffnut shouted.

“No way, I want it!”

“I called it first!”

“You always -!”

Hiccup interrupted, knowing from experience they would argue all day otherwise. “Ruff, Tuff. Same dragon, remember?”

“Oh, right.” They grinned at each other and reach across the gap between Barf and Belch’s heads to bump fists. That had been one Southern custom Hiccup had shown them just to see what they’d do with it, and now it was pretty much their signature thing. Snotlout groaned, but didn’t argue, and they finally took off towards the beach. Hiccup crouched over Toothless’s neck, rising in the saddle in preparation for the dive. “Come on, bud,” he murmured. “Show them what you’ve got!” Toothless opened his mouth and started pressurizing the fire, so that it made that infamous screaming sound that never failed to send Vikings running for cover. They dove hard and fast, and sure enough, screams of “ _N_ _ight Fury!”_ and _“Get down!”_ filled the air. Toothless fired and blew past the ballista fast enough to avoid the debris. Hiccup laughed and angled the fin for a fast climb up, then they leveled out to sweep around for another attack. He heard Dagur the Deranged’s wild screams, and rolled his eyes.

When the Berserkers had finally come to renew the peace treaty, they were led not by Oswald the Agreeable, but by his son, Dagur. It had come as an unpleasant surprise to everyone. It seemed that Dagur had had enough of waiting for the old chief to die so he could take over, and had decided to hurry the process a little. Hiccup had been standing back with the rest of the tribe. Astrid had been standing at Hiccup’s customary place at Stoick’s side. As close as Stoick and Hiccup had grown, Astrid was still the heir and in a political setting like that, she needed to be at the Chief’s side. Hiccup had understood, and been fine with it. He had actually hoped to avoid being noticed, but it was not to be. Dagur’s eyes zeroed in on him immediately, and a crazed grin had split his face. Hiccup still wasn’t sure how he had known so instantly that Hiccup was the Southerner, but it bothered him more than he would admit that he was still so easy to tell apart from the other Vikings. Dagur had stepped forward and Hiccup tensed a little. Toothless had been in the Academy with the other dragons, to keep them out of sight from the Berserkers, and it left Hiccup feeling incredibly vulnerable. But much to his surprise, Snotlout had stepped up to his right side, where Toothless typically stood, and his face was hard, with none of the cruel amusement he usually showed at Hiccup’s discomfort. The twins, with matching grins that were more bared teeth than signs of amusement, moved to stand at his left. Fishlegs, with more boldness than Hiccup had ever seen from him, had stood at Hiccup’s back, towering over all of them. Astrid had stepped forward from Stoick’s side to stand behind Dagur, eyes hard and fingers tight around her axe, still holstered on her back.     

No fight had broken out there, but Dagur’s fascination with Hiccup was unrelenting. It had only grown worse when he’d found out about the dragons, and about Toothless. Dagur seemed to go back and forth on whether he wanted Toothless in a cage, like a pet, or if he wanted to wear the Night Fury’s head for a hat. But mostly, his obsession was focused on Hiccup. Much to Hiccup’s discomfort, Dagur started calling him _brother_. He really had no idea why, especially since Dagur’s gaze was often disturbingly intense, almost sexual.

He noticed a small group of Vikings sneaking away from the rest. It was possible that they were trying to run away, but knowing Dagur, it was probably some stupid plan. So Hiccup leaned towards them to direct Toothless, and they swept down towards the Vikings.

Before Toothless could fire and redirect the group, he suddenly jerked and cried out. Suddenly, they were falling. Hiccup gasped and instinctively kicked the tailfin into position three, for climbing higher. But there were ropes wrapped around Toothless’s wings, pinning them to his sides, and they were falling. Thankfully they weren’t too high, so when they hit the ground, Hiccup didn’t splat. Instead, the ropes securing him to the saddle snapped and he tumbled head over heels – well, heel – until his momentum died and he was able to get a grip on the grass and stop himself. Stunned, he shook his head and struggled to clear the black spots form his vision. He staggered upright, and looked for Toothless. What he saw turned his gut to lead.

Toothless was wrapped in two bolas, one around his wings and another around his head, holding his jaw closed and keeping him from firing. The second one must have been thrown after they hit the ground, when Hiccup was too stunned to notice.  There was a huge Viking, an Outcast, approaching him with an axe held in both hands. Hiccup’s heart pounded. None of the other riders were there. Hiccup had been too arrogant in his ability to strategize, planning on staying high and dive-bombing the Viking invaders the way Toothless used to do in raids. But he sent Toothless low to drive the small group of Vikings back. And now, his dragon was trapped and utterly helpless, whimpering through his nose and fighting the ropes. But he had no leverage to break free, and there was no one there to help.

Only Hiccup.

He didn’t even have time to think. He yanked the knife free from his belt. He didn’t carry a sword, considered it too bulky to haul around while flying. But he had his knife. He didn’t shout, didn’t alert the Viking to his presence. He just lunged forward and drove the point of his blade into the back of the Viking’s vulnerable neck.

The Outcast didn’t drop instantly like Hiccup had hoped. Instead, the man gasped and choked, dropping his axe and reaching back wildly. Terrified, Hiccup stabbed again, and kept stabbing. Hot blood coated his blade, sprayed everywhere. Hiccup’s hand slipped on the slick weapon, and the side of his palm sliced open on the edge of the blade. Hiccup stabbed again, and something crunched. Finally, finally, the Viking went down. Hiccup stabbed twice more, to be sure. The Outcast’s neck was in ribbons, and his head lolled unnaturally. He was almost decapitated. Hiccup had no idea how many times he’d stabbed the Outcast. He stared at him, eyes wild and chest heaving, half convinced he was going to get up again, like something out of a zombie movie. He didn’t. Someone shouted his name, and he instinctively looked up, but didn’t move. Gobber was hobbling towards him, moving as fast as his peg leg could carry him. Abruptly remembering where he was, Hiccup whipped around, eyes searching for his dragon. Toothless was no longer struggling. He watched Hiccup calmly, apparently confident that the threat was gone and was patiently waiting to be freed. Hiccup stumbled over to him, his head suddenly feeling disconnected from his body. He cut the ropes with the sticky, bloody knife, and his stomach rolled. He swallowed bile, and sliced the last rope. Toothless leapt to his feet and made worried noises as he licked at Hiccup’s cut palm. Hiccup shuddered at the thought of his dragon swallowing the Outcast’s blood and pushed Toothless’s nose away.

A hand clapped down on Hiccup’s shoulder and he nearly leapt out of his skin.

“You ‘lright, Hiccup?” Gobber asked. His unibrow was all scrunched up and he looked more serious than Hiccup had probably ever seen him. Hiccup gave a quick jerky nod and hopped into Toothless’s saddle. He opened the fin and they leapt into the air before Gobber could question Hiccup further. Not that he needed to. The scene Gobber was standing in the middle of was pretty self-explanatory. Hiccup directed Toothless towards Stoick’s house. The invading Vikings were retreating now. He could hear Snotlout’s victorious call of “Snotlout Snotlout, oi oi oi!” and knew the other riders had successfully driven the Outcasts and Berserkers back. At least his plan had worked. They landed in front of the house, and Hiccup and Toothless ducked inside without having to talk to anyone. He knew he should go check on his friends, then check in with Stoick and make sure everyone was okay, and that he should fly a lap around the island to make sure all the invaders were really gone. He didn’t. Instead, he sat down in front of the dying fire, wrapped his arms around his knees, and shivered. He didn’t know why he was cold. He was still sticky with blood, drying on his face and hands. He could still feel the phantom sensation of metal against bone, of tendons and muscles resisting the drag of the knife. He’d never killed anyone before. During all the previous times that the Outcasts and Berserkers had invaded, Hiccup simply drove them back. He had Toothless use lightly-powered fire that simply knocked them over and scared them rather than deadly blasts. He focused on taking down weapons, on burning ships. He crippled their ability to fight without actually taking lives. Of course, people still died. Not all Vikings cared quite so strongly about avoiding killing. And on the ground, where the Vikings were in the middle of the fighting and their adrenaline was pumping, death happened. Usually on the side of the enemy. But Hiccup himself, and his friends, hadn’t directly taken a life before.

He jumped when something touched his hand, and came back to himself. He was leaning against Toothless in front of the fire, which was down to coals. Stoick was crouched in front of him, looking concerned. How long had he been sitting there? He glanced out the window. It was getting dark. Over an hour must have passed. Stoick tossed some logs onto the fire, pulled a fur around Hiccup’s shoulders, and pressed a mug of water into his hands. Hiccup drank silently, grateful that the Chief wasn’t saying anything. Stoick carefully checked Hiccup over, frowning at the cut on his hand, then gave Toothless the same treatment. He soaked a cloth in water, then started carefully cleaning the blood off Hiccup’s skin. Normally, Hiccup would protest being babied but he couldn’t quite bring himself to pull away. So he sat quietly as Stoick wrapped his hand in a bandage and gently rubbed the cloth through his hair, working dried blood free. Stoick got Toothless some water and a couple of fish, since the dragon refused to move.  

Once Stoick was apparently satisfied that he’d done all he could to physically help him, the Chief sighed deeply. “Hiccup. You didn’t do ‘nything wrong.”

Yeah, right. If they were going to have some deep talk, and Stoick was going to feed him reassuring lies, Hiccup was going to leave. He shoved to his feet, startling Toothless, and stalked outside. Toothless bounded after him, and he heard Stoick call his name. Hiccup swung into Toothless’s saddle and kicked open the tailfin. Toothless hesitated, like he wasn’t sure he really wanted to go anywhere, but when Hiccup nudged him, the dragon unfurled his wings and took off. Hiccup glanced back. Stoick was standing in front of the door, but he didn’t chase after him or try to call him back. Instead, he was slumped against the doorframe, as if his shoulders were too heavy for him to carry.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Normally after a battle, Hiccup rounds all the riders up, and they make sure the Outcasts and Berserkers were really gone. So when Hiccup didn’t appear, Astrid was afraid that he’d been hurt. When she went to the Chief’s house, her concern skyrocketed at the stress on his face. Her worry didn’t ease much when the Chief explained what happened, and how Hiccup and Toothless had taken off. Still, she knew there was only one place they would go.

Sure enough, when Stormfly landed in the cove, Hiccup was sitting leaned against Toothless’s shoulder next to the pond, watching the moonlight dance over the small ripples made by the light wind. Toothless glanced at her as she dismounted, giving a soft huff of greeting. Hiccup didn’t say anything, and Toothless didn’t budge. Normally, Toothless bounds over to meet her before going off to play with Stormfly. His quiet, subdued behavior betrayed his worry about Hiccup. Astrid patted Stormfly to let her know she could go play, and walked towards the duo by the pond. She patted Toothless’s head and he snuffled at her palm. Hiccup still didn’t even look at her. She sat next to him, leaning against Toothless as well. It was a chilly night, and she knew that soon the leaves would start changing colors and the summer would bow to the force of winter. She was grateful for the heat Toothless pumped off.

“Hiccup,” she said, keeping her voice firm and unsympathetic. She knew he wouldn’t appreciate pity. He tipped his chin towards her, but didn’t look away from the pond. She tried again.

“Hiccup. Listen to me.”

“What?” He demanded, his voice sharp. He sounded annoyed, as if he was in the middle of something and didn’t want someone unimportant bothering him. It was a tone he used to use often when he first arrived on Berk, and it had been awhile since Astrid last heard it. She realized that she’d never actually heard it directed towards her.

“I know what happened,” she said, not reacting to the tone. She knew it wasn’t real. It was one of those Southern ticks Hiccup had. When he felt vulnerable, he used to act almost unbearably infuriating. He hadn’t used those annoying Southern tricks in a long time. “It was a battle. Sometimes, people have to die. Sometimes there’s no way out, Hiccup.”

Hiccup snorted. “You guys were fighting too. Yet, I don’t see any blood on your hands.” Astrid glanced at Hiccup’s hands. The right one was bandaged.

“We got lucky,” she replied. “We won’t always. People are afraid of the dragons. They always have been. But now, they have people to target instead of just the general species. This won’t be the only time we have to defend ourselves. At some point, we’ll all have to kill, I’m sure. Today, the Gods just decided it was your turn.” Hiccup snorted, a sharp, condescending sound. Astrid knew she probably should have left the Gods out of it. Hiccup had changed a lot since he’d first arrived on Berk, but he still didn’t believe in their Gods. It didn’t really bother Astrid, as long as he wasn’t too vocal about it, but she knew it upset some of the other Berkians.

She decided to change tactics. “Hiccup. Why did you kill that Outcast?”

Now he finally looked at her, but it wasn’t like she’d wanted. He had that fake, Southern sneer on his lips, the one that irritated her so much when he’d first arrived. He’d been a short, skinny thing with sharp eyes that saw too much and baggy clothes. He had strange, delicately narrow features that she knew were customary of Southerners, and spoke in an accent that none of them had ever heard before. Even his skin was strange. It was a strange color, darker than any Viking skin she seen but not as dark as some drawings she’d seen of people from the middle of the planet, where the sun was the closest. But it wasn’t the color of a tan either. It looked nice with his dark hair and eyes, she had to give him that. If you looked closely, you could even see a few freckles. His hair had been shorter than Vikings wore, and he didn’t have a single visible scar. Not even the kind kids get just from roughhousing and playing outside. Even Astrid had a couple, including a thin line on her knee from when she fell out of a tree from the time Snotlout bet her that she couldn’t reach the apple at the top, and one through her eyebrow when she had hit a tree with her axe and a wood chip hit her in a face. But Hiccup didn’t have any. He spent his time sneering at everybody as if they were lower than him, striding around with fake confidence, and scribbling in his journal in that language Southerners apparently wrote in. No one could ever be sure what he was feeling, because he was so good at faking confidence. The only time that confidence ever seemed to wane was when he was around Astrid, which was when he’d start that annoying stuttering and babbling.

The boy sitting next to her now couldn’t be more different than the one who’d first arrived on Berk. He very rarely faked his emotions, and the confidence he carried himself with now was real. He had a genuine, kind soul that emerged once he stopped trying to hide who he was. He was smart, smarter than anyone Astrid had ever met, to the point where it was almost intimidating. He even looked different. He was taller, taller than her now. Dragon riding had done what nothing else could, and had filled him out a little. He was still slim, probably always would be, but his pointy elbows and knobby knees had been covered with a layer of muscle. He was starting to look lean rather than skinny. He’d lost some of the baby fat on his cheeks, and his narrow, Southern features were more obvious than ever. But recently, rather than looking alien and strange, she’d started to find his finely-boned face appealing. His hair, which had been almost black when he’d first arrived on Berk, had been bleached by the sun and had turned a dark brown. Red highlights were visible in the sun. It was also longer, and Hiccup often brushed it out of his eyes.  His hands had small scars from working in the forge, and were callused.

She was jerked back to the present when Hiccup spoke, answering her question. “Because he was going to kill Toothless. Don’t treat me like a stupid child, Astrid. I know I had to fight him.”

She refocused her attention on their conversation. “Then why are you beating yourself up over it?”

Hiccup looked away from her, back out at the water. “Because.” Now he was whispering, the quiet sound carrying over the soft lapping of the pond and the sounds of night animals calling to each other. “Because his back was turned. And I stabbed him, when he wasn’t even looking at me. I didn’t try to fight him off, didn’t try to do anything other than kill him. I just, stabbed him.” Hiccup laughed, a hollow sound. “I stabbed him in the back. Vikings are big on honor, Astrid. You going to tell me that stabbing a man in the back, when he wasn’t even looking at me was honorable?”

Astrid didn’t say anything. She had to be careful with how she proceeded. Now she could see how the Chief may have struggled to find what to say to Hiccup. The two of them were so emotionally constipated that neither one of them would have been comfortable with the discussion. They were more similar than either of them realized.

She shifted, pulling one foot underneath her and twisting towards Hiccup. He glanced at her in surprise, but didn’t protest when she started running her fingers through his hair. In fact, he leaned into the touch with a content sigh. She couldn’t help but smile a little. She knew she was the only one Hiccup allowed to do this. She’d watched him complain and swat at the Chief and Gobber any time they would tussle his hair. Something deep inside her that she refused to acknowledge felt smug that she alone was allowed this intimate touch. She combed her fingers through his hair, thick as a mink’s pelt and almost as soft. His hair had wide, loose curls that wrapped lazily around her fingers when she stroked through them. There was a thin smear of blood along his hairline that the Chief must have missed. She separated a few locks and started weaving them together.

“Did you know Vikings used to put braids in their hair for major accomplishments?” She murmured.

She knotted the first braid, started on the second. “It’s an old tradition that’s died out in a lot of places. Some people still do it. Gael used to put braids in for every dragon he killed. Obviously, he doesn’t anymore.” Gael cut them out after befriending an old, scarred Gronkle, but she didn’t mention that. She secured the knot in the second braid, then dropped her hands to let Hiccup feel them.

He tugged on them, looking thoughtful. It was an improvement over the empty look he’d had when she’d arrived, and the fake sneer he’d tried to hold.

“Why two?” he asked.

She smiled, and reach out to run her fingers through his hair again. “One, for when you ended the war.” She tugged the second one. “Two, for protecting your brother, no matter what it takes.”

Hiccup blinked at her choice of words, and reached back to stroke Toothless’s scales. “Not sure if you’ve noticed Astrid, but I don’t have wings, or scales.”

A small smile was tugging at his lips. A crooked, real smile. Not the hard one with too many teeth that was as straight as the blade of her father’s sword. That was one of the first things she figured out about Hiccup. When he was smiling for real, one side tended to pull up higher than the other. It looked dorky, but it also made something warm curl in her chest.

In answer, she rolled her eyes. “You also don’t have red hair or green eyes. Love doesn’t care who you look like.”

Hiccup’s eyes were locked on her, and at the word ‘love’, they flicked down to her lips. And really, for the two of them, it was as natural as breathing. They’d both known how the other felt for a while.

So she leaned in, and gently touched her lips to his. It wasn’t technically their first kiss, but now, alone, with only the sounds of the night around them and the heat of the dragon at their back, it felt like it. It wasn’t sparkles and rainbows, but a warmth and a strong sense of _right_. Hiccup’s lips were chapped but warm, and she thought it fit him. Some rough edges, but warm and kind. The kiss only lasted for a couple of seconds, then she leaned back. They didn’t talk about it. They weren’t at the point yet where they were ready to change their friendship into something more. She knew that someday, they would. They had their whole lives ahead of them, and no need to rush it. But for now, they had that moment between them to remember. So they sat quietly, in peaceful silence, and listened to the night.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pay attention to the violence warning here. This isn't a happy chapter guys. It also leaves off on a cliff hanger, so if you really hate those you may want to wait to read this until I post the next chapter. As always, thank you EchoMoonstone for betaing!

Hiccup was seventeen the day everything went wrong.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He and his friends had heard that the Outcasts were on small island about half a day’s flight away, and were attempting to trap a small flock of Nadders. The Academy went out to drive the Outcasts back. They were easily chased away. Years later, when Tony Stark looked back at that day, paralyzed on his couch with a hole in his chest and and not sure if Toothless was even _alive_ , he would say too easily. As if they never cared about the Nadders in the first place. As if they’d had another goal altogether.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The first sign that anything was wrong was the smoke. Miles from Berk, they could see thick, black smoke rising in the sky. Smoke was not an uncommon thing to see on Berk. There were hundreds of fires heating homes, plus all the dragons. But this fire was thicker and darker than Berk’s usual fire. And it seemed to stem from the water about a mile off Berk’s coast.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

There was a ship. That was the source of the smoke. But it wasn’t a Viking ship. It was a Southern ship. An _American_ ship. Staring at it in growing horror, facts ran through his mind. It was an amphibious assault ship, otherwise known as a commando carrier. It was designed to land ground soldiers on enemy land. Clearly, they had not anticipated the dragons. That was easily concluded by the fire that was consuming the ship. There was no flag on the ship that Hiccup could see, but Howard had worked closely with the U.S. military and had made sure that his son learned everything he needed to know about Stark Industries biggest client. He recognized a U.S. naval ship when he saw one. He ignored the frantic questions from his friends and urged Toothless faster, bulleting ahead of the other riders.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *  *

When Hiccup landed in the village, it was chaos. People were screaming and crying. There was blood everywhere. Splattered on the ground, on buildings, soaking through armor. Bullet holes were everywhere. Salem lunged at him, screaming “ _Traitor!_ Filthy, bloody _traitor!”_ Toothless snarled and snapped at him before he could reach Hiccup, and Spitelout yanked him away before he could get within range of Toothless’s teeth. Spitelout glared furiously at Hiccup, and the Viking’s hands were shaking where they clutched Salem’s armor.

“Stop it!” Spitelout hissed at Salem, his voice raw. “We need all the men we have left! Getting killed by the Fury won’t bring Dacia back! Let the Chief deal with _him!”_

Dacia was Salem’s wife. She was due to give birth in a little over a month if Hiccup remembered correctly. He looked around, horror making his fingers numb.  

There were so many bodies. Once, when Hiccup had first arrived on Berk, he had felt smug thinking of how superior America’s weapons were in comparison to the Vikings’ medieval weapons. Now, he wanted to be sick as he stared at the bodies, all lined up. He knew all of their names. Part of living in a village with only a few hundred people living in it, and part of living with the Chief, was that he knew everyone. Dully, he started counting. Seventy three. There were _seventy three_ dead Vikings. The dead Southerners were in a pile by the beach. With the way they were piled on top of each other, Hiccup couldn’t count them, but he guessed there were around twenty. There were three dead dragons, and two injured. Hiccup’s breathing was picking up, and he was started to gasp in ragged breaths. The Southerners weren’t wearing American Navy uniforms. Instead, they wore plain black combat gear. Their faces weren’t covered. They weren’t concerned about anyone potentially revealing their identities. They were cocky, planning on simply mowing down the Vikings. The dragons must have come as one hell of a shock. But with the Academy away from Berk, that left only the resident dragons. Dragons that were bonded to humans, but not trained to fight. They must have simply started setting everything on fire, doing their best to defend their home as their instincts told them too.   

“ _Mom_ _!_ ” Fishlegs cried. Hiccup hadn’t even noticed the arrival of the other riders. Fishlegs scrambled off of Meatlug’s back and rushed towards the line of bodies. He fell to his knees by the body of a woman, already beginning to sob. Hiccup hadn’t even recognized Ogechi. The top of her head was blown clear off. Brain matter was splattered over what was left of her hair. But now that he was looking, he recognized the sword on her hip. He had made it. It was still holstered. She hadn’t even had time to draw it.

“ _Chief!”_ Spitelout shouted. Hiccup looked up, and was relieved to see Stoick, apparently unharmed, striding towards them. But then he looked closer, and the relief drained away.

Stoick’s face was white as a ghost. Blood was splattered over his armor, and covered his hands. And he was determinedly not looking at Hiccup.

Stoick’s arrival seemed to draw everyone in, and suddenly everyone was screaming and lunging for Hiccup. Only Toothless’s snarles and bared teeth kept anyone from actually laying a hand on him.

“ _Traitor!”_

_“I want his head!”_

_“We took him in, and he’s betrayed us!”_

_“My baby is dead, my baby my baby my baby …”_

_“Fucking traitor!”_

_“Sacrifice him on the Blood Eagle!”_

_“Traitor!”_

_“Traitor!”_

_“Traitor!”_

Hiccup scrambled back from the onslaught, hands raised defensively, trying to shout above all the voices. But no one can out-shout several hundred angry Vikings. No one but one.

“ _Enough!”_ Stoick bellowed. He shoved people back, forcing his way into the circle that had formed around Hiccup. There was about five feet Toothless had kept clear around them. Otherwise, Hiccup thought he probably would have been crushed by the crowd. Or simply ripped to pieces by them. Toothless allowed Stoick into the clear space, but kept a wary eye on the crowd.

“Chief …” Hiccup tried. Stoick ignored him, addressing the crowd.

“We will have his trial in the Academy! No one will interfere, no one will lay a hand on Hiccup until I have gone over the evidence and given him a chance to defend ‘imself!”

“What about the dragons?” Someone shouted from the crowd. “No matter what crimes ‘e’s committed, they’ll protect ‘im!”

Stoick paused, considering, then nodded. Hiccup stomach sank to his toes. “Lower the net over the Academy! That will kept the bulk of the dragons out. Cage all of the riders’ dragons! Separate Toothless from the rest!”   

Stoick’s heavy hand fell on his shoulder, and began to steer him towards the Academy. Toothless whined uneasily, but Stoick kept himself between Hiccup and his dragon.

“Chief -” Hiccup tried to say.

“No,” Stoick said sharply. His voice was harsh, but Hiccup could hear the gaping wound beneath the hurtful tone. He could hear the _betrayal._ “You will get your chance to speak. For now, be silent.”

It was because of that hurt that Hiccup stayed quiet. Stoick had said he would get a chance to speak. He would get to explain that he was innocent. He had no idea what had happened, but he knew he didn’t ask for it. But a small, scared part of him whispered _maybe it happened_ because _of you._

The net was already lowered over the Academy. Someone must have flown ahead on a dragon. Stoick dragged him in, and the Academy's dragons trailed after them, all of them tense and uneasy. The other riders were there too. Even Fishlegs, although tears still dripped down his round cheeks. But Hiccup was relieved to see that they were glaring at the Vikings around him, not at Hiccup himself. Clearly, they at least believed that he was innocent.

Even though Stoick didn’t seem to.

“Get the dragons in cages!” Stoick boomed. “Separate Toothless! Make sure their doors are secure!” Even now, Hiccup had to admire Stoick’s ability to think rationally in the wake of all the grief and rage. Toothless was the most intelligent and most powerful dragon on Berk. Even without that, the other dragons looked to him for guidance. Toothless would be able to organize the other dragons if he needed to. But not from a separate cage.

Everyone seemed hesitant to approach the seething Night Fury. The only ones Toothless was allowing close were people he completely trusted. But none of the Academy would help, and Stoick seemed reluctant to take his hand away from Hiccup’s shoulder. As if he thought he would run. In the end, Gobber was the one to do it, although he seemed reluctant.

“Come on, old friend,” Gobber murmured, lightly tugging on the saddle. “Don’t make this worse than it already is now.”

Toothless dug his claws in and glanced at Hiccup. Scared and looking for direction. Hiccup took a deep breath. He didn’t want to let the comfort of Toothless go, but the Vikings would never believe him if he wasn’t completely open and honest. And if he held onto the safety net of Toothless, they’d never believe him.   

“Go on, bud,” he encouraged, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “Go on, it’s okay. I’m going to fix this buddy, I promise.”

Toothless whined unhappily, but he reluctantly allowed Gobber to lead him to the cage. The huge, heavy doors closed with a _thunk_ , and the reinforced log settled over them, securing the doors in place. 

He felt cold without Toothless at his side. Now, with his dragon’s protection gone, Vikings surged forward, shouting again.

Stoick raised the hand that wasn’t clenched around Hiccup’s shoulder. “ _Quiet!”_ he boomed. “Give me some space! We will go over the evidence we have, let Hiccup defend himself, and go from there!”

“Chief. You can’t really believe that Hiccup would -”

Stoick interrupted Astrid. “I think that the evidence speaks for itself. And I think that -” Stoick voice cracked, and he took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. His hand fell away from Hiccup’s shoulder. “I think, that - that it was a mistake to - to bring a Southerner to Berk. To expect him to be able to let go of his Southerner habits of laziness and lying, and to accept the Viking way of life.”

Hiccup’s eyes widened, shocked hurt cutting through him. He’d known it was bad, but to hear that Stoick _regretted_ saving him -

  
Stoick stepped away from Hiccup’s side, striding a few feet away before swinging around to face him head-on. “Today, we had our first aggressive encounter with Southerners since Berk’s birth. Seventy-three good Vikings are dead. Thirty-five are injured. All this came from a handful of Southerners, with their Southern weapons, acting on Hiccup’s orders.”

Hiccup shook his head frantically. “ _No!_ Come on Chief, you can’t believe that! I’ve never done anything but try to protect Berk! I wasn’t even _here!_ ”

Stoick nodded. His face was hard and unreadable, but his hands were shaking. Hiccup could imagine all too well the betrayal icing Stoick’s heart, because the same feeling was beginning to creep through Hiccup.

“Yes,” Stoick said, voice grim and flat. “You weren’t here. You and the other riders, our best line of defense, went off on some errand no one knew anything about, and returned with nothing.”

Hiccup opened his mouth, a thousand protests jumping around in his head, but a sniffling Fishlegs beat him to it. “There were Outcasts there, Chief. We chased them off, and the Nadders continued on. There was no reason to bring anything back to Berk.”

Stoick scowled at Fishlegs for interrupting, clearly wanting Hiccup and only Hiccup to answer him, but for once Fishlegs didn’t back down. He met the Chief’s eyes straight on, without flinching, even as tears dripped off his cheeks.

“You all follow Hiccup’s lead in battle,” Stoick announced. “You are blinded by your loyalty. It’s not a bad thing, but you are not in a position to understand what he has done. Part of that is my fault, for giving him a position of command. Yes, he is good with the dragons. There’s no denying that. But he is not a Viking. It was wrong - wrong of me to think he could become one.”

Hiccup felt like someone had struck him. The other riders seemed as stunned as he was, all staring at the Chief with shocked eyes. Stoick turned back to Hiccup.

Stoick took a deep breath, like he was bracing himself. Out of his pocket, he drew a folder piece of paper. He shook it out, and held it up in front of Hiccup. “This was in the pocket of the leader of the Southern invaders. It’s written on Viking paper, in charcoal, in the Southern tongue. And the handwriting is very familiar.”

Hiccup stared in disbelief at the letter. _His_ letter. Looks like it had made it South after all. But _how_? Why didn’t Trader Johann say anything? And he had explicitly stated in the letter that the Vikings were peaceful as long as they weren’t attacked first.  

Hiccup sucked in a breath. One thing at a time. “Yes, that’s my letter, but -”

The crowd went ballistic.

“So you admit it!”

“Guilty!”

“What else do ya need Chief!”

“Hang him!”

“No, burn him! Like the Berserkers do to traitors!”

“No, you should -”

“ _Enough!”_ Stoick boomed. Hiccup didn’t even know how many times the Chief had shouted that particular word today. “Enough! Let 'im speak!”

Hiccup took a deep breath, tried to collect himself. “Yes, it’s my letter. You saw me write it Chief! Come on, I didn’t tell them to attack! I literally told them _not_ to! All you have to do is read -” Now Hiccup fell silent. Because the letter was written in English. The only one on Berk who could read English was Hiccup. And they were hardly going to take his word for it.

For the first time, Hiccup realized he might not be able to talk his way out of this one.

Stoick nodded grimly, his mouth tight. “Do you have anythin' else to say for yourself, before I give the sentencing?” Stoick’s face with unreadable, but his eyes begged Hiccup for it to not be true. For Hiccup to have some evidence that proved, without a shadow of doubt, that he was innocent.

Hiccup had nothing. And the evidence was damning. If it was someone else, he wouldn’t have doubted their guilt. “No,” Hiccup whispered.

Stoick’s eyes closed for a brief moment, and the grief that twisted his expression was unbearable. Then his eyes flashed open, and his face hardened. “Then as Chief of Berk, I declare you guilty of the highest form of treason.”

Although Hiccup had been expecting it, his heart sank to his toes. The crowd - no, the mob - went wild, screaming threats and potential punishments. Over the crowd, he heard his friends' voices.

“No!”

“Chief, you can’t _do_ this!”

“Come on, this is stupid! Hiccup wouldn’t do this!”

He looked up, and saw that Stoick was holding Astrid back, and Spitelout had Snotlout by the shoulders. The twins were held by their father, and Fishlegs, the only one who didn’t need to be physically restrained, was trying to reason with Stoick. Hiccup already knew it was a lost cause. Stoick was right, the other riders were blinded by loyalty. They trusted him in battle, and that trust bled over into their friendships. Two years ago, they wouldn’t have doubted that Hiccup was capable of something like this.

No one would take the Academy's word for it that he was innocent. And Hiccup was terrified of dragging them down with him.

“Go!” he shouted at them. “Get out of here! There’s nothing you can do!”

Astrid stared at him, her face twisted in horror and grief. Tears were welling in her eyes. Hiccup had never seen her cry before. He regretted that they’d never have to chance to grow their friendship into something more.  

“We’ll find something Hiccup!” Now it was Snotlout shouting to him. “We’ll find the evidence to clear your name!” He yanked away from Spitelout, glaring furiously at the older Viking. Hiccup knew their relationship was rocky, but he’d never seen Snotlout act so _hatefully_ towards his father.

He also knew that whatever had happened to cause this, his friends wouldn’t find any evidence to free him. Not in time, since Stoick clearly intended to perform the punishment immediately. But it would get them away from here, and keep them from doing anything that would land them in the same situation Hiccup was in.

“Go!” he shouted again. And finally, finally, they went. Although it was with obvious reluctance. But their dragons were locked up in the cage next to Toothless’s, so there was no chance of them being able to fight. And they also wouldn’t have speed on their side.

Hiccup took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Stoick stared at him, breathing heavily and struggling for composure. The tribe was still screaming various suggestions of torture and death.

Finally, Stoick looked away and shouted, “ _Quiet!_ I have decided!”

Instantly, silence fell. Hiccup tried to find his courage.

Stoick looked at Hiccup, but didn’t met his eyes. He stared at Hiccup’s forehead as he began to speak. “Three years ago, we took you off the sea and accepted you as one of our own. You have repaid that kindness with the largest single massacre Berk had ever experienced. So now, you will be branded with the Mark of Betrayal, also known as Thurisaz.”

Hiccup’s face drained. He had read of the Mark, but never seen anyone carrying it. It was because that particular mark was known as the highest level of evil a person could be marked with. Not even the Outcasts would accept someone with the Mark.

Stoick was still speaking. “You will receive thirty lashes and then be floated out to sea, to die the way the Gods originally intended."

No. Hiccup couldn’t go back on the raft. He just couldn’t. He’d rather they killed him there.

He opened his mouth, but Gobber beat him there. “Stoick, maybe you should think about this,” Hiccup’s mentor said, voice uneasy.

Stoick lip twisted when he answered. “Quiet, Gobber. You're my oldest friend, and I grant you a lot of leeway because of that. But I am the Chief, and this is what will happen. If you can’t stomach it, than leave. No one will think less of you.”

Gobber shook his head. “I just think that maybe yer acting hasty. This just happened after all. Maybe we should -”

“Do you have any evidence proving his innocence?” Stoick demanded.

Gobber shook his head. “Ya know I don’t, Stoick.”

“Then leave,” Stoick said. He was making a clear effort to soften his voice, but Hiccup could hear the pain in it and knew Stoick was suffering. “Go to the forge. Strengthen our defenses in case more Southerners arrive.”

“Chief -”

“That’s an order, Gobber.”

Gobber glanced at Hiccup, and his face was full of regret. Then he looked away, and that hurt more than anything that had happened so far. Gobber slowly hobbled out of the Academy, head bowed and shoulders slumped.

“What about his dragon?” Someone shouted from the crowd. Hiccup’s heart froze. He had been making a conscious effort not to mention Toothless. He didn’t want his poor dragon getting caught up in Hiccup’s mess.

But Hiccup had forgotten that, despite the situation, Stoick was a _good man_.

“Toothless did nothing wrong,” Stoick said firmly. “It’s not his fault that Hiccup has betrayed us. We will leave him caged until Hiccup is off of Berk, and if he does not choose a new rider, Gobber can make the fin Hiccup designed that lets him fly alone and we will set him free.”

Hiccup sighed in relief, but the tribe seemed uneasy with Stoick’s answer. “The Night Fury is the most powerful dragon on the island. Yer just gonna let ‘im go?”

“He did nothing wrong, and we will not keep him where he doesn’t want to be.” Stoick’s voice was firm.

Hiccup knew it wasn’t that simple. Toothless would look for him. Especially if Stoick gave him his flight back. Hell, Toothless might just attack them right out of the cage, even if they didn’t let him out for a few days. But he didn’t say anything.

The Vikings moved quickly. A tall, slim log was brought in, with a stone on one end and a heavy-duty nail on the other. It was placed with the stone down, so the log was standing vertically. A rope was wrapped around the nail and pulled down. Hoark grabbed Hiccup and yanked him over, quickly wrapping the rope around his wrists. Then the rope was tied around another, smaller nail at about hip height, securing his hands in place. He was facing the log, which was slim enough that it covered his face and chest, but his shoulders stuck out to either side. The stone on the bottom weighted it enough that Hiccup couldn't budge it.

His heart was pounded in his ears. This didn’t feel real. Just a couple of hours ago, he had been out with his friends, just a normal day. Now, the entire tribe _hated_ him. And not just the annoyance they’d held for him when he’d first arrive. Really, really hated him. And now, he’d be branded a traitor - literally - and tortured for something he didn’t even _do_.

Not that they believed him. Hell, he wouldn’t believe _himself_ in their situation.

Seventy-three dead. Hiccup shuddered and closed his eyes. He could hear a fire being built. A few drops of rain sprinkled his face. He hated hated _hated_ that this was being done right outside of Toothless’s cage. His poor dragon would be beside himself. Hiccup remembered that he’d promised Toothless that he’d fix this, and felt sick. _Looks like I’ll have to break that promise buddy …_

Someone ran a knife through his shirt, cutting it off. He opened his eyes. Stoick was walking towards him with the Mark. The brand was glowing red-hot. Hiccup’s heart pounded in his ears. Stoick hesitated in front of him. He didn’t meet Hiccup’s eyes. The Chief opened his mouth, then closed it and looked off towards the village. Hiccup knew that he couldn’t see the line of bodies from the Academy, but he must have been picturing them to give himself the strength to do this.

Without further ado, Stoick pressed the brand to Hiccup’s left shoulder.

It _hurt_.

It hurt like nothing else Hiccup had ever felt.

He’d been burned before of course, working with dragons and in the forge. But he’d never been burned and had the thing burning him _stay on him_ even when he tried to pull away. He instinctively struggled, pulling on the ropes holding him. But he didn’t scream. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, but he wouldn’t scream. He wouldn’t do that to Toothless.

Not that it mattered. At the sound sizzling flesh, or maybe at the scent, Toothless roared and threw himself against the door to his cage. It rattled, but held. Stoick pulled the brand away. Hiccup’s stomach rolled at the way it pulled his skin with it. Toothless fired at the door, and the metal groaned but didn’t give. Smoke billowed out the bottom.

Hiccup looked at his shoulder, panting for breath. The Mark was growing red-hot. He already knew it would scar. It was already beginning to blister. Hiccup’s eyes welled. No Viking would ever allow him in their tribe now. Even if someone found him once he was floated out to sea, the Mark insured that they would leave him there. He closed his eyes.

He heard the shaky exhale Stoick let out, and the sound of his heavy footsteps quickly moving away. He opened his eyes again just in time for Hoark to step forward, sneering, and unwrap the rope from the lower nail. Hiccup had a moment of confusion before his arms were jerked over his head and he was forced to stand on his toes. He swallowed the cry that tried to escape when the movement pulled on the tender skin of his shoulder.   

His weight was completely balanced on the toes of his right foot. His prosthetic couldn’t reach the ground. He hopped a little, struggling to find a more comfortable position, but no matter what he did his shoulders were strained and the muscles of his right calf burned.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps. Stoick’s face was white, and his hands shook around the whip he held. Hiccup’s heart, already pounding, picked up. He was scared. How couldn’t he be? He’d been hurt before, but never deliberately tortured. The whip had knots in it, but he didn’t see any pieces of metal or anything that would shred his back. Looks like he’d probably survive the whipping itself. Too bad. He’d rather die on like this than face the rocking of the ocean.

Stoick hesitated for a long time, whip in his hand. In the end, he couldn’t do it himself. Stoick swallowed hard and shoved the whip into Hoark’s hands. Hiccup was oddly grateful that this at least, wouldn’t be done by the man who he loved like a father. Hoark grinned. Hiccup remembered that Hoark had made his bed. Hoark had always seemed rather amused by Hiccup. For a second, he wondered how he had changed so rapidly to hating him. But then he remembered the body of Hoark’s daughter lined up with the other corpses and he understood.

The first lash of the whip shocked him. It _burned_ , burned as if the whip was a brand too. He chewed at the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming and dug his fingers into the log. Toothless shrieked furiously and the door rattled under his weight. Hiccup could hear his claws on the metal. He wanted to call a reassurance to his dragon, to offer whatever comfort he could, but then the whip came down again and Hiccup knew he had to keep his mouth shut to keep from screaming.

Five lashes in, and Hiccup’s back started bleeding.

Toothless went nuts, throwing himself around his cage. He used all of his fire, and Hiccup heard him cough as he tried to shoot again. The doors holding the other riders’ dragons were rattling as well as they roared and tried to get out. Outside of the Academy, kept out by the metal net, the dragons of Berk roared and fired. But they couldn’t shoot too close without risking hitting Hiccup. Still, it was nice to see. The dragons didn’t understand the Vikings reasoning, so maybe taking comfort from their loyalty was wrong. But knowing that they wanted to protect him, even if they couldn’t was a much needed comfort.

Fifteen lashes in, and Hiccup’s mouth tasted like copper and his fingers were raw and bleeding from where he’d dug them into the log.

He lost count of the lashes after that. Hoark was sneering something, and the tribe was eerily silent. As much as they’d shouted for this, they didn’t seem to enjoy watching it. Part of Hiccup was grateful for that. It was horrible enough to have them turn on him like this. It would have been so much worse if they’d enjoyed it. The only sounds were Hiccup and Hoark’s panting breaths, the crack of the whip, and the dragons’ roaring.

After that, everything got … fuzzy. He was still awake, still chewing on the inside of his bloody cheek, but he could feel consciousness slipping away. He wondered if he should let it. Wondered if he was dying. Wondered how many more lashes there were to go.

He was musing over this when the next lash caught him by surprise.

It landed neatly between his shoulder blades, over a half dozen cuts like it. But Hiccup had been lost in thought and not ready for it. So he screamed.

He screamed and screamed, unable to stop. He twisted, using the last of his strength to scramble uselessly at the log and throw his weight agonizingly onto his shoulders. Vikings glanced at each other uneasily.

But a sound caught everyone's attention.

Hiccup knew the sound of Toothless’s fire. All of Berk did. And this sound was similar, and it was coming from Toothless’s cage. But it was louder, louder than Hiccup had ever heard from dragon fire. It was a high-pitched, shrill scream, building even higher.

The only one who didn’t seem to notice was Hoark. His face was still twisted into a smile that was more of a grimace by now. He raised the whip again.

But he didn’t bring it down.

Because the door to Toothless’s cage exploded out, small pieces of wood flying everywhere and smoke blowing out of the cage. Toothless was - well, he seemed to be glowing. Hiccup wondered if he was hallucinating. Because Toothless’s dark scales were lit a brilliant blue, along his head and down his back.  

The Night Fury stepped forward, teeth bared.

And Toothless was free.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Thurisaz symbol is real by the way. I did stretch the meaning a bit, since it really just means evil. But if you're curious as to what Tony's brand looks like, you can just google Thurisaz. Please let me know your thoughts and concerns! I know this chapter was probably pretty unexpected, and I'd love to know what you think!


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the last chapter officially has the strongest reaction I've ever gotten from a chapter! Thanks for all the comments! I know the last chapter seemly came out of the blue, but I've been planning that since before I ever wrote a word of this story. Some people were genuinely upset by what happened though, which isn't my goal. This story isn't always going to be happy-go-lucky, guys. Especially from here forward. Berk was the "happy" part of Tony's life, his childhood. Now it starts to get harder. Of course, it will have cute fluffy moments in there too, but if dark stories are upsetting for you, I would strongly suggest unsubscribing from this story.
> 
> In other news, next chapter is Jarvis! Thanks for all the support, and as always huge thanks to EchoMoonstone for betaing this!

Hiccup stared blankly at Toothless. Some part of his brain that was still processing information whispered _Titan Wing._ He probably would find it a lot more fascinating if he wasn’t struggling to stay conscious. Toothless lunged, with all the power and speed that his kind was known for, and grabbed Hoark. Toothless’s head was so wide that his mouth wrapped around Hoark from collarbone to hips. Toothless bit down with an ominous _crunch._

Hoark’s mouth opened, but rather than the scream that Hiccup was expecting, bloody foam exploded from his lips. Toothless tossed him aside, turning his bared, bloody teeth towards the other Vikings. But they weren’t charging.

They were _running_.

The only thing Hiccup had ever seen the village run from, as a whole, was the Red Death. Even then, there were still a few people obeying orders. Now, it was chaos. People were screaming, crowding around the exit, pushing and shoving and struggling to escape. Hiccup dully recalled that they all remembered the raids, and what Toothless was capable of. Now, as a Titan Wing, he was even stronger.

Toothless roared, and the screams increased in pitch. But then Toothless’s eyes locked on a single target, the only one who wasn’t running.

Stoick stood between Toothless and the tribe, sword in hand. But the weapon was lowered, tip resting on the ground. His eyes were dull, resigned. He didn’t want to fight. But he stood between the enraged Night Fury and his people. A body shield.

Or a distraction.  

Toothless dropped to a crouch, tail lashing. The dragon tensed.

“Tooth’ess,” Hiccup managed to croak. His throat was raw.

The dragon froze, head popping up.

“Tooth’ess,” he repeated. “‘S’op it.”

The Night Fury hesitated, looking back at Stoick. The Chief wasn’t looking at the dragon, at the threat right in front of him. He was looking at Hiccup. His face was twisted in agony, eyes a storm of emotion. He looked like _he_ had been tortured.

For half a second, Hiccup and Stoick stared at each other. Then Toothless fired at the ground in front of Stoick, a massive blast that sent rock and dirt flying thirty feet in the air and leaving a crater in his wake. Toothless whirled back to Hiccup, and he reared up to where his hands were tied. He tore through the ropes with ease, and Hiccup collapsed with a ragged cry that was lost in the chaos. Toothless crooned and nudged Hiccup with his nose. Hiccup tried to push himself up, but it pulled agonizingly on his bloody back and he collapsed again. Toothless jammed his nose between Hiccup’s ribs and the ground and pushed him up. Hiccup ground his teeth against the pain and fumbled for a grip on Toothless’s saddle. If his dragon was going to save him, the most Hiccup could do was not cry about it.

Toothless glanced up at the netting over the cage, and Hiccup grasped drunkenly at the saddle. He’d let Toothless figure out how to get them out of there. It was all he could do to stay upright. Toothless crouched down, head low, to make it easier for Hiccup to get into the saddle. He managed to drag himself into place and clip his prosthetic into the flight rig. He looked up again. Stoick was still watching him. The Chief made no move to stop him as Hiccup opened the tailfin.

Toothless took off gentler than Hiccup had expected. Of course, it wasn’t like the Vikings were making any move to stop them. They were still trying to get out of the Academy. Toothless fired, easily blasting through the grate over the Academy.

Hiccup let Toothless pick where they went. He was barely conscious at this point, and was struggling to even keep up with the tailfin. He was sprawled over Toothless, his head resting against his dragon’s. He didn’t even notice when the blue faded from his Night Fury’s scales. He twisted, fire racing up his back, to look back at Berk. It was growing smaller in the distance. Knowing he’d never see his home again, Hiccup stared until Berk disappeared behind them.

He closed his eyes.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Toothless was scared.

He had never _imagined_ their flock turning on them like that - let alone Hiccup’s sire, who they _both_ trusted. They had _hurt_ Hiccup, hurt him badly. Toothless had never regretted more that he couldn’t lend Hiccup his scales, couldn’t protect his fragile body. And now Hiccup was seriously hurt, and couldn’t tell Toothless what to do.

Toothless knew that Hiccup needed a human healer. But their flock couldn’t be trusted. Toothless didn’t quite understand the meaning of the burn on Hiccup’s shoulder, but he knew it held meaning for humans. Humans were confusing. They like to make pictures, but sometimes those pictures have specific meanings, like a language without sound, and sometimes they don’t seem to mean anything. But from what Toothless heard them saying from the inside of the dark cage, he knew that the burn on Hiccup’s shoulder meant something bad to humans. So he would have to be careful.

But Toothless remembered a Viking flock that seemed to dislike fighting. He had flown there with the other dragons once, and although their riders had hidden them, Toothless remembered hearing Hiccup talking to them. They weren’t too far away. It had been a day’s flight away, but Toothless was far faster flying alone than when he had to wait for the other dragons.

Hiccup wasn’t doing well. He was slumped against Toothless, and his breathing was raspy. His moves with the false-fin were sluggish and slow, and it caused Toothless to stumble in the air several times. Once they were far away from their flock and Toothless was no longer afraid of them catching up, he flew close to the water in case they fell. If necessary Toothless would swim, towing Hiccup along, for help.

Toothless had failed Hiccup enough that day.

But he had underestimated Hiccup. Hiccup managed to hold on until Toothless made a clumsy landing outside of the strange Viking nest. Then his little Viking slumped sideways, collapsing to the ground. Toothless immediately warbled in worry and nudged his rider, but Hiccup had lost his fight to stay awake. Toothless looked around, worried. It was dark, which was good for staying hidden, but it was cold and raining lightly. It didn’t bother Toothless, but Hiccup was already hurt and he got cold so easily. Toothless awkwardly pushed his nose under Hiccup and wiggled until his rider was more-or-less draped over his neck.

Toothless cautiously crept into the nest. He could hear laughter and voices in several places, but there was one kind of Viking Toothless was looking for. He remembered how, in their nest, there had been an old female Viking who smelled of plants and others’ blood, that had helped Hiccup when he’d lost his paw. Toothless searched for a similar scent now.

It didn’t take long. Toothless found a small private-nest that smelled of those healing plants Toothless desperately needed someone to use on Hiccup. He couldn’t hear a heartbeat inside, but the human scent was fresh so he carefully climbed in through one of those wall-holes humans liked to put in their private-nests, lifting his wing to keep Hiccup from slipping off his back. Once inside, he hid Hiccup under his wing and waited.

The moon was high by the time the Viking returned. Toothless stayed still and quiet as the Viking, whistling happily, kicked off the covers humans liked to put over their back paws and mosied over to the place where the remains of a dead fire sat. He tossed some dead tree pieces in, and Toothless wanted to light it for him like he usually did for humans but he knew he had to tread carefully. So he waited as the human started a fire using rocks, and turned around.

The Viking gasped, stumbling back, and for a second Toothless was afraid that he would fall into the fire. He he didn’t. He stared at Toothless, and opened his mouth like he intended to cry for help.

Toothless quickly flattened himself, wings splayed submissively, as if the Viking healer was a dragon Alpha that Toothless needed to respect. It was humiliating to do this for a human, but Toothless _needed_ his help. He made his eyes as big and harmless as possible, hid away his teeth, and crooned pleadingly.   

The human hesitated, looking uncertain. Hopeful, Toothless whined a little and stretched out his nose. He saw the moment the Viking noticed his saddle and false-fin, and confusion flicked over his face. Toothless carefully raised his wing, and revealed Hiccup.

The Viking’s eyes widened, and he leapt forward. Toothless’s first instinct was to re-cover Hiccup and growl a warning, but he knew that he couldn’t. So he let the Viking grab Hiccup and roll him over.

The Viking spotted the burn on Hiccup’s shoulder. Toothless didn’t know why this shape of a burn bothered Vikings so much. He’d seen plenty of humans get burned without this reaction. But the Viking’s hands jerked away with a hiss, as if the burn could jump from Hiccup’s skin to his own. Toothless gave another pathetic whine and nuzzled Hiccup, desperately trying to get the Viking to see that Hiccup was good, and he deserved help.

The Viking sat back on his haunches, and looked between Hiccup and Toothless a few times. Then he heaved a sigh. “I’m gonna regret this,” he muttered.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The first thing Hiccup noticed when he woke up was that he was on the floor. He must have fallen asleep next to the fire with Toothless, and Stoick had draped a fur over him. He sighed, started to roll onto his back.

The second he moved, fire exploded across the skin of his back and he remembered everything.

His eyes flew open with a gasp, and instantly Toothless’s tongue blinded him.

As he was choking and sputtering, a voice nearly caused him to jump out of his skin.

“That’s quite the beast ya got there.”

He startled sharply, and tried to push himself up. But agony screamed to life not only in his back, but on his burn, the muscles of both shoulders, his right calf and toes, and his fingers. He collapsed back down.

“Yeah, not the bestest idea lad,” the voice said.

Hiccup twisted his head, and saw a middle aged Viking with blond hair glowering at him from where he sat by the fire.

“I’m seventeen. Don’t call me lad.” He coughed, and once he started it was hard to stop. The spasms from the coughs had tears rushing into his eyes. He sucked in a desperate breath and gritted his teeth. Toothless cooed and carefully licked his face. Hiccup found the usually disgusting habit surprisingly soothing.

He looked back at the Viking, who didn’t look particular sympathetic. “Where am I?”

“Peaceable Country.”

Hiccup blinked, shocked. “How the hell did I get here?”

The Viking shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I came in to go to bed last night, and there was a damn dragon curled up on the floor. Damn near shat meself. Yer lucky this is a peaceful village, or else I mighta taken an axe to it.”

Hiccup narrowed his eyes at the Viking. It might have looked more threatening if he was capable of sitting up. “So why didn’t you?”

The Viking sneered at him. “Never seen a dragon act like that before. Caught my interest. Flattened out and started purring and chirping at me like a feral cat in heat.”

Hiccup’s lip twisted and his fingers curled into fists beneath the fur covering him. “Don’t talk about him like that,” he snapped.

The Viking shrugged. “Then it lifted its wing, and there you were. Me first thought was to get ya away from the dragon, then I saw the Mark.”

Right. The Mark. The goddamn Mark. “So why’d you help me?”

The Viking raised an eyebrow. “I’m a Healer. I couldn’t just let ya die.”

Hiccup stared at him in disbelief. “That’s … pretty progressive thinking. Color me impressed.”

The Viking scowled. “Don’t get too excited. I don’t want ya here. You can stay a few days, get some strength, but then you and yer dragon gotta go.”

Fair enough. It was more than Hiccup could have hoped for. He nodded. “Deal.”

The Viking stood up and walked around a corner, disappearing from sight. A couple seconds later, and he was back with a mug. He set it on the ground next to Hiccup and walked away again. Hiccup shifted, wincing, to pull his arm out and grab the mug. His fingers were bandaged. He drank the water the best he could considering that he was on his stomach, and some ran down his chin. It was still a wonderful relief for at least one of the many discomforts. He took a deep breath, and tried to take inventory. He was in a lot of pain, but that was to be expected. His fingers and back were bandaged, although lightly. His dragon was lying next to him, watching him carefully. His prosthetic was still on, and so was Toothless’s flight rig.

Well, that wouldn’t do. He grimaced, bit into his already shredded cheek, and pushed himself to his knees. Toothless immediately leapt to his feet with an anxious whine, and paced a restless circle around Hiccup.

“What the Hel are ya doing? Lie back down!”

Hiccup glanced up. The Healer was back, with a steaming mug in his hand and a shocked look on his face. “I gotta get his flight rig off. If I leave it like that, it’ll get stiff and start to crack. I don’t have a way to fix it. It _has_ to last.”

The Viking muttered obscenities as he stomped over. “I’ll do it. It won’t eat me, right?”

Hiccup sighed. “No. Not unless I tell him to of course.”

“Well, if ya want to survive a little longer and not have that back of yer’s rot, then you’ll tell it not to. Now, drink yer broth and tell me what to do.”

Hiccup sat on his butt, which seemed to be the least painful position at the moment, and sipped his mug as he talked the Healer through taking off Toothless flight rig and laying it out to dry. It must have rained the night before. Hiccup didn’t remember that part.

God, his smart, smart Toothless. He and the other riders had been to the Peaceable Country once on suspicion that the Outcasts might have been planning to raid there to get more supplies to raid Berk. It had turned out to be a false lead. But Toothless _remembered_ , flew them there, and found the Healer. As if that wasn’t enough, his prideful Toothless had _begged_ for help.

Hiccup stroked Toothless’s head. “ _Thank you,_ ” he whispered. Toothless crooned and carefully licked his bandaged fingers.

After getting Toothless’s rig off, Hiccup and his dragon had to make the painful walk over to a small side room filled with herbs. The Healer didn’t want them in the main room in case someone came in. The Healer may act like an ass, but he helped Hiccup when literally no other Viking would. Hiccup had a feeling that if they’d met before he’d been Marked, he’d have met a cheerful, friendly man that was beloved by the whole village.     

The side room was colder without a fire, but Toothless was plenty warm and Hiccup still had the fur. He spent most of the day sleeping, and woke up to someone poking his ribs. One of the few places he wasn’t injured. The Viking carefully peeled the bandages off his wounds, and Hiccup panted like a woman in labor to handle it. Toothless whined.

The Healer ended up giving Hiccup a piece of leather to bite down on while he cleaned the injuries. At least the leather didn’t taste like blood.

After, when Hiccup and Toothless were alone again, he arranged their gear, and he wanted to cry when he accidentally smeared blood over Berk’s crest on Toothless’s fin. He was more careful to wipe the blood off his hands after that.

Next, he looked through what little he had. In Toothless’s saddle bag, all he had was a water skin, his journal, and Gothi’s herbalist book. Right, he’d been adding how dragons react to different herbs to the huge book. He opened his journal. He was on his third. The other two were in his room back on Berk. He’d certainly never see them again. Hell, Stoick had probably chucked them into the fire. He flipped through his journal. He had endless drawings of his friends and their dragons, of Stoick, of Gobber, even a couple of Gothi. The last page had a picture of Stoick standing next to Hiccup, hand on his shoulder and smiling. It was the pose he and Astrid had held while Bucket painted their portrait on a shield to hang in  the Great Hall alongside all the past Chiefs and their heirs. Hiccup wasn’t jealous, he really wasn’t. The last thing he wanted was to be Chief. All the speeches, running the village, it just wasn’t for him. He much preferred the dragons. But still, if he was _really_ Stoick’s son, he would have been standing there that day. He sighed. If he was really Stoick’s son, maybe he wouldn’t have been Marked.

He put the journal away.

Strapped to Toothless’s saddle was his helmet. He had stopped wearing it while flying after losing it during Snoggletog when he was fifteen. Instead, he had stitched a leather loop onto the saddle and ran one of the horns through it, and he secured the helmet there while he flew. He swallowed hard and hid the helmet in the saddlebag.

Days melted together. At night, the Healer - who refused to tell Hiccup his name - treated his back while Hiccup clenched his teeth around the strap of leather. In the morning, the Healer took off the bandages to let the wound breath and left to go to the village.While he was gone, Toothless licked Hiccup’s injuries.

As always, Toothless’s saliva hurried the healing process along. Within a week, his back was scabbed over and the Healer was telling him that he had to leave.

The Healer filled his water skin, gave him some bread and a few pieces of yak jerky, some herbs for the pain, a shirt that was so big it hung down to his knees and kept slipping off one shoulder, and sent him out into the night.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Flying hurt. Which wasn’t unexpected. Hiccup and Toothless were hovering above the village. Toothless was waiting for direction. For Hiccup to tell him what the next step was.   

“Well bud,” he whispered, staring at the lights of the fires. Fires belonging to Vikings. Who he no longer was. He closed his eyes. “I guess it’s time to see how Jarvis is.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They flew at night. They couldn’t risk being seen in the daylight. Although he was still technically flying under Berk’s crest, they no longer supported him and he couldn’t let anyone see it. Plus, if anyone saw the Mark there was a good chance they would just kill him outright.

Crouching over Toothless’s head reopened the scabs, and his gifted shirt was soon soaked with blood on the back. He couldn’t handle any complicated flying, and certainly couldn’t handle the pain of saltwater in his wounds. So hunting and fishing was out. Once dawn started to peek out, they landed and Toothless lit them a small fire. Then Toothless went out to hunt on foot while Hiccup rested. Hiccup hated it. He felt completely useless, and knew all he was doing was making it harder on Toothless. Worse, his dragon always brought him back something. A branch full of apples, a rabbit, a turkey, or on one memorable occasion, an entire doe. They were forced to hop between islands, and there were some days where they had to sleep on a sea stack or an iceberg. Once, they had to fly for two days straight because they couldn’t find any land to stop at. Hiccup hated flying blind like this. He didn’t have a map, or a compass. All he could do was point Toothless south.

It took them eight days to reach New York. They couldn’t move too fast for fly too long because of Hiccup. But six days in, they saw a cruise ship flying a Canadian flag. It was in the middle of the night, around 3am judging by the height of the moon, and the ship was dark. So Hiccup landed Toothless carefully onto the deck. There was no one around. Clearly, there were no concerns about potential threats. That was a pretty good sign that they were in Canadian waters. Hiccup found a map in a glass case stuck to the outside of a door. On the map, there was a red pin in the water. Someone must have been updating the map so the passengers could see where they were. That was fine by Hiccup. He opened the case and took the map, then he and Toothless flew away.

After that, it was much easier to find their way. They stayed away from the mainland and stuck to the water, landing on tiny, unoccupied islands to sleep their days away and resume their flight under the cover of night.  

They made the last sprint for the city all in one night. The last thing Hiccup wanted was to get caught by a ship, or a helicopter. So they flew fast and high. Hiccup knew that they were there when Toothless suddenly pulled up and growled, a low, uncertain sound. Hiccup couldn’t see the lights yet, but he knew that Toothless could. And his dragon had never seen an electric light before, let alone millions of them all crowded together.

“It’s okay, bud,” he murmured. “It’s just lights. They make it so humans can see in the dark. They’re like … tiny, tiny fires, trapped inside a bubble.”

Toothless’s muscles relaxed at the ease in Hiccup's voice, and they continued on.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The spent the day on the top of a old building whose heating unit rattled loudly, hiding behind two huge water tanks. Toothless was restless, and Hiccup - no, Tony, he had to get used to being Tony again - didn’t blame him. He’d forgotten how _loud_ the city was. Especially during the day. Cars honked and brakes screeched, people shouted and cursed, sidewalk vendors shouted to try to attract customers, advertisements played, jets flew overhead …. After years of quiet at Berk, Hicc - _Tony_ found the noise almost unbearable. He couldn’t imagine how Toothless felt. Neither one of them got any rest.        

Once night fell, he left Toothless hidden in a dark alleyway that was thankfully clear of homeless people. He hated leaving Toothless alone, _hated it._ But he couldn’t bring his dragon into a library without attracting all sorts of attention he didn’t need. But first, he spent over an hour digging through garbage cans until he found just what he was looking for.

The jacket reeked of cat piss and whiskey, but it was long and covered his bloody clothes. His prosthetic was still visible, but Hi - Tony thought that was probably a good thing. Southerners avoided looking at people with missing limbs, so that they wouldn’t be caught staring. Besides, no one would think to see Tony Stark in a smelly jacket and without a foot.

He found a 24-hour library, and stopped outside the doors. He took a deep breath. The lights glowed through the glass doors, and it shouldn’t have looked as strange and alien as it did.

He squared his shoulders and opened the door.    


	32. Act II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people are upset with the idea that Tony's relationship with the Vikings ended on such a bad note, and I'd like to remind everyone that HTTYD 2 takes place at the end of this story. We haven't seen the last of the Vikings, don't worry! 
> 
> This is the first chapter that really takes place in America. We will spend a couple chapters getting Tony and Toothless settled in, then speed through Tony's young adulthood and start the Iron Man storyline! 
> 
> As always, thanks EchoMoonstone for betaing!

Trying his hardest not to look suspicious, Tony crept into the library. He kept his head down and his eyes averted as he walked past the librarian’s desk, but the middle aged woman sitting there just gave him an annoyed look and turned her attention back to her computer. Thank God for New Yorkers and their impatience. He found the computers and choose one in the corner, out of sight of the general population of the library. Not that there were many people there. There was the librarian, a old man snoring on a desk, and two college-aged kids surrounded by coffee cups and whispering angrily to each other as they gestured to their laptops. They must be taking summer courses. Which, Tony realized with a small jolt, must be coming to an end. At least that meant he didn’t have to worry about potentially being followed to the South. The freeze would be coming to Berk soon enough.

Tony sighed in pleasure as he stroked his fingers over the dusty keyboard of the ancient, wheezing computer. He’d never touched such an old, pathetic piece of tech in his life, but the rattling desktop was like a balm to a wound he’d been ignoring for years.

“Hello beautiful.” He barely mouthed the words, not wanting to bring attention to himself. “Let's see what’s happened in my absence, hmm?”

He typed his name into Archie, and waited while the computer struggled to load the results. Thousands of pages came up. He downloaded the first article, then opened it. ‘ _Howard and Maria Starks’ remains recovered; Tony Stark’s body still missing.'_ Didn’t look like people were very hopeful that he was alive. He read through it. _The Seeker_ had some kind of mysterious engine failure that resulted in an explosion. The engineer in charge that night had been found in his room - the closed door preventing his body from floating out - and had presumably been asleep, allowing the engine damage to grow. It didn’t explain the explosion Tony had heard that night, but frankly he didn’t care. Not at the moment. He had other concerns.  

All the bodies were collected except for his own. He read further. Tony was declared dead after three weeks of searching. In Tony’s absence, Howard’s business partner Obadiah Stane received the bulk of the Stark fortune. But there was no mention of Tony’s letters being found, of a rescue party being sent out. No reason for how the Southerners had ended up on Berk with his letters.

He closed the article and deleted the file from the computer. He reopened Archie and typed in _Edwin Jarvis_. He was harder to find information on. No one was very concerned about the help, although Jarvis had been around long enough that the media was vaguely aware of him. It took some time, but he eventually found that Jarvis had quit the same day that Tony had been declared dead. He was currently living in a small apartment across the city from the Stark mansion. Tony shut down the computer and took a deep breath. It was beginning to feel real. He was going to see Jarvis again. _Tonight_. Would Jarvis even recognize him? Would he be able to accept Tony as he was now? Would he be able to accept Toothless?

Only one way to find out.

Tony returned to Toothless, who was bouncing everywhere in his relief at Tony’s safe return. Tony knew the feeling. Leaving Toothless alone, grounded and vulnerable, in the heart of New York City was terrifying. But there was nothing else he could do, and it was done now. He and Toothless flew low so Tony could see the street signs, carefully dodging street lights. Tony had never been more grateful for Toothless’s natural camouflage. The building Jarvis was living in was quiet and bland, nothing special, nothing that drew attention. Tony and Toothless carefully crept in through the fire escape. Toothless was immensely curious, but Tony managed to keep him quiet and mostly still. They were in the living room. It was dark, curtains drawn over the windows. The only light came in from the open fire escape. The furniture that Tony could see was simple, earth-toned and comfortable.

“Wait here,” Tony whispered. Toothless cocked his head and eyeballed the refrigerator. He could probably smell whatever Jarvis had in there. “Stay out of the fridge,” he whispered, trying to make his voice firm. Toothless huffed and looked away as if he’d never thought of doing such a thing.

The first room Tony peeked into was a bathroom. The next room was the bedroom. Tony tiptoed in, holding his breath. There was a small nightlight that made it possible to see. Tony stopped by the bed. Jarvis looked … older … than Tony remembered. His face had lines, even in sleep, that it didn’t used to. His hair had a streak of grey in it. His breathing was even and quiet. Seeing him made a lump rise in Tony’s throat. He’d missed him. Of course he had. Jarvis had been the only dependable source of affection Tony had had until he was fourteen and Stoick took him in. And look how that ended up. He took a deep breath. Yes, a lot had changed in the past three years, but Jarvis wouldn’t do what Berk did. He wouldn’t turn on him. He had to believe that. He _had_ to.

He’d been staring at the sleeping Jarvis for long enough that he was beginning to feel creepy, so he took a deep breath and reached out. He shook Jarvis’s shoulder once and leapt back.

Jarvis’s brow furrowed and he muttered a little before settling into sleep again. Right. Southerner, not a Viking. Not going to come out of sleep with a roar on his lips and a sword in his hands. Tony exhaled, annoyed with himself and stepped forward again.

“Jarvis,” he whispering, shaking his shoulder again. “Jarvis, wake up.” Jarvis murmured, eyelashes fluttering. Then his eyes flew open with a gasp and he rocketed backwards. All at once Jarvis has a Glock 19 in his hand, pointed at Tony.

“Wait wait, Jarvis! It’s me, it’s Tony! Calm down!”

“Who are you, and how did you get in here?” Jarvis’s voice, with it’s familiar, soothing accent, was uncharacteristically hard.

“Jarvis, calm down!” _Stay Toothless, stay_ he silently plead. “It’s me, it’s Tony!”

Jarvis blinked in the dim light, and fumbled for the bedside lamp, more clumsy than Tony had ever seen the usually formal and well-put-together butler. The light clicked on, and Jarvis’s face was washed in light. Tony offered an uncertain grin. “Hi.”

“Anthony?” Jarvis whispered, sounding disbelieving.

Tony’s smile wavered. “Yeah, Jarvis it’s me. Don’t you recognize me?”

“ _T_ _ony.”_ Jarvis dropped the gun and lunged. Tony managed a startled yelp before Jarvis arms locked around him in a tight hug. Then the surprised yelp turned into a pained cry. Jarvis jerked back, startled.

“ _I_ _’m fine Toothless,”_ Tony barely breathed the words, not wanting Jarvis to hear. But definitely not wanting Toothless to come bursting through the door in full protective mode.

“Are you injured? What’s wrong?” Jarvis’s hands skimmed carefully along his arms, down his back. He suddenly pulled his hands back and stared in disbelief at his palms. “You are _bleeding_ _!_  Why did you not say something sooner! Sit down, I will call an ambulance and -”

“ _No!_ Jarvis, it’s fine, it’s already been treated, it’s weeks old! It’s just some broken scabs!” Tony couldn’t go to a doctor. He _couldn’t_. 

“What do you mean weeks old, what happened? How did you get hurt, where have you -” Suddenly Jarvis glanced down, and his face went white as a ghost. “ _What happened to your leg?”_

Right. Tony took a deep breath, tried to slow his mind down. “The foot thing is years old. Calm down Jarvis, I’ll explain everything. I promise. Just, there’s someone you have to meet first.”

“No, first you have to go to hospital,” Jarvis said, voice firm and unyielding. He gently tugged on Tony’s arm, urging him to sit on the edge of the bed, just Tony refused to budge.

“Jarvis, I promise I’m fine. My injuries have been treated. But I’ve been flying for a week straight and keep reopening it so -”

“Flying?” Jarvis’s voice was sharp. “You had access to a plane?”

Tony winced. He was usually better about thinking before opening his mouth. “No,” he said. “I promise, I’ll tell you the whole story. Just please, Jarvis. Hear me out before you do anything.”

Jarvis took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Alright, Master Anthony. Where is this person you say I need to meet?”

Tony grimaced. “Can you please drop the ‘Master’? I really need to talk to Jarvis my friend, not Jarvis, Howard’s butler.”

Jarvis cocked an eyebrow at Tony’s use of Howard’s first name, but he nodded. “All right Tony. Whatever you need.”

Tony offered a nervous smile, heart picking up speed. This was the moment. “Okay. Thanks, J. He’s in the living room. Just, please Jarvis. Trust me. You’re going to freak out when you see him, but I promise, he’s perfectly safe. Just, let me explain.”

Jarvis frowned, but nodded. Tony took a deep breath and led Jarvis out of the bedroom. His fingered hesitated over the light switch. The living room was silent. Toothless was completely hidden in the dark, away from the light of the fire escape.

He flipped the switch, and the room lit up.

Toothless was sitting in the middle of the room, staring at them. Instantly, Jarvis grabbed Tony’s arm and yanked him back. Tony yelped at the jerk on his burned shoulder, and the resulting tension on his back. Toothless stood up and growled, pupils thinning. But Tony could hear the uncertainty in the sound.

“Jarvis stop! Let go! Toothless, calm down, everything’s fine. Jarvis!”

“That is a dragon Tony! Stay away from it! Come on, I can call -”

“ _No!”_   Tony planted his feet, metal and flesh, halting them. He got his hand under Jarvis elbow, in a move that Astrid had shown him, and broke his grip. Jarvis lunged for him again, but Tony danced out of reach, closer to Toothless. Toothless rumbled restlessly, not exactly a growl, but definitely not a happy sound. This was _not_ going the way Tony wanted.

“Stop it Jarvis!” He snapped. “I mean it! If you make me choose between you and this dragon, you will lose! We’ll leave right now, and you’ll never see me in person again!”

Jarvis stared at him in hurt disbelief. Then he stood up to his full height. “Anthony Edward Stark, that is a dragon. It is _dangerous -”_

Here we go again. “He’s not dangerous! I’d be dead a hundred times over if it wasn’t for him! You said you’d give me a chance to explain!”

Jarvis’s teeth ground together. He was still eyeing Tony and Toothless, like he was debating if he could reach Tony and get him away from Toothless before either of them could react. Tony took a step closer to Toothless. His dragon leaned over him, chest barely not touching Tony’s painful back, head over Tony’s shoulder. Toothless and Jarvis stared each other down.

“This is who you wanted me to meet so badly?” Jarvis asked.

Tony nodded. “Yes. This is Toothless. He’s a Night Fury.”

“Night Furies do not exist,” Jarvis replied immediately.

Right. Southerner. Tony glanced at Toothless’s face. “Toothless, slow burn.”

Toothless’s mouth opened, and blue-purple fire glowed softly in his maw. His face was so close to Tony’s that he could feel the heat against his cheek.

Jarvis’s eyes went huge. He was clearly remembering the fairy tales, just as Tony had the first time he’d seen Toothless’s fire.

“They’re real,” Tony explained. “Just, really rare. Toothless is the only one I’ve ever found. And I’ve spent the past two years looking. He might be the last one.” He patted the side of Toothless’s jaw, and his dragon closed his mouth, the light from his fire disappearing.

Jarvis took a deep breath. “How long have you been … acquaintanced … with this dragon?”

“We’ve been friends for about two years,” Tony said. He didn’t mention the raids that he’d first seen Toothless in. There would be time for that later. One thing at a time. “He’s been with me almost 24/7 since then. He’s not a rabid animal, Jarvis. He thinks, he calculates. He’s more intelligent than most humans are. He can understand what we say, can think it through. He isn’t ruled by instincts. If he was, he would have killed you the second you grabbed me. He’s giving you a chance. Give him one.”   

Jarvis closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were determined. “Okay, Anthony. I trust you. If you say this … Night Fury … isn’t dangerous, then I believe you.” Tony exhaled in relief, felt Toothless relax slightly behind him. He opened his mouth, but Jarvis held up a finger and kept talking. “I want to hear the whole story, Tony. But first, you are a mess. Go take a shower - or perhaps a bath would be easier - and I will prepare us a meal. You can tell me everything while you eat."

Tony nodded and patted Toothless as he stepped away. Jarvis frowned at Tony’s feet, looking worried. “Do you require assistance?”

Tony couldn’t help but snort a little. “I got it Jarvis. Like I said, the leg thing is really old. I’ve been bathing on my own for years.”

Jarvis nodded, but he still looked a little worried. Tony kept talking so Jarvis couldn’t press the issue. “Your bathroom looked pretty big, so I’m just going to take Toothless with me. I really don’t want you two to find something to fight over while I’m gone.”  

Jarvis’s eyebrows were still creased with worry, but he gave a reluctant nod and walked around the counter separating the kitchen from the living room.  

“There are clean towels in the pantry,” Jarvis called, pots beginning to clang together. Tony walked towards the bathroom, Toothless patting along behind him. The hallway was narrow enough that Toothless had to hold his wings in close. The bathroom was large, plenty big enough for Toothless to be in. It was thankfully carpeted, so Tony’s metal foot had plenty of traction. He found the cupboard with towels that Jarvis had mentioned and pulled one out. He sighed in pleasure, rubbing the soft fabric against his face. Much softer than fabrics on Berk, which were washed in rivers and air-dried. He set the towel down next the the large bathtub, turned the tap. Water burst out, and Toothless nearly leapt of his skin. He snarled at the water, wings flared aggressively, and Tony couldn’t help but laugh.

“Come on Toothless, it’s just water! Look, it’s even warm!” Toothless crept forward, slow and cautious. He sniffed at the running water, snorted. Really, Tony couldn’t have been expected to resist a temptation like that.

So he stuck his hand in the water and flicked it at Toothless. Immediately, Toothless yipped and lunged away, frantically shaking his head. Tony howled with laughter, prancing away from the retaliating tail swipe Toothless tried to take him down with. His dragon laughed too, a low throaty sound, and hopped around Tony, teeth sheathed as he grinned. Normally, Toothless probably would have tackled him to continue the game, but Tony’s injuries prevented that. Tony abruptly realized that this was the first time he’d really laughed since he’d had to flee Berk.

“What’s going on in here?”

Caught, Tony froze. Jarvis was standing the the doorway, a pile of folded clothes in his arms. He raised an eyebrow at him, and Tony felt like he was six years old all over again.

“Toothless hasn’t seen running water before,” he explained, sheepish. “His reaction was funny.”

Jarvis frowned and walked in, keeping a careful eye on Toothless, to set the pile down on the counter by the sink. “I thought he has been at your side for two years?”

Oh, right. Jarvis didn’t know about the Vikings yet. Tony winced a little. “Yeah, he has. But we’ve been … away … from this part of the world.”

Jarvis sighed. “Just take your bath, Anthony. Then you can tell me your story.”

Jarvis walked out, and Tony and Toothless stared at each other. “That’s on you,” Tony said. Toothless snorted.

Hot water was a luxury Tony hadn’t appreciated in years. Unfortunately, the water burned like fire against his back. His burn and his fingers were pretty much healed thanks to Toothless - although it would take some time for his fingernails to grow all the way back - but his back hadn’t been able to probably heal, even with Toothless’s help, due to the stress Tony had been putting on it. He ended up draining the tub and refilling it with tepid water. It was still nicer than Berk’s icy rivers that he was used to bathing in.

When Tony opened Jarvis’s bottle of shampoo, Toothless snorted sharply and backed away, shaking his head. Tony tried to coax him into coming close again, but Toothless was reluctant. Tony could guess why. There were all sorts of strong chemicals in the shampoo. Toothless could probably smell them all. And he clearly didn’t like it. Tony sighed. He felt terrible. America and American culture were never designed to be compatible with dragons. Tony had never really thought that that was something he needed to worry about. Still, he was Tony Stark. On Berk, he’d just been a skinny kid that Stoick was fond of. But in America, he could basically have whatever he wanted. Once he officially came back to life of course. Even if he couldn’t change the whole U.S. to fit Toothless’s needs, he could at least build his own life around his dragon’s. Starting with using unscented shampoo.

Tony didn’t use anything but water to wash with, but by the end the water was a murky red from blood and dirt. He drained the tub and got out, leaning on Toothless since his prosthetic was off. The leather patting of the metal foot did not mix well with wet skin, so he left the prosthetic off and leaned against the counter where the clothes Jarvis had brought him were.

He stared at the mirror. It was foggy up so he could barely see anything. The only times he’d seen his reflection since _The Seeker_ sank was in the surface of ponds around Berk. And then they had been wavy and difficult to make out. He wiped off the mirror.

He looked older. That was the first thing that caught his eye. His face was thinner and his hair was long, hanging in his eyes. He was still wearing the braids Astrid gave him over a year ago. There was a thin scar under his lip where he was hit with a branch while flying and not paying attention. The Mark stood out starkly - haha, he thought sourly - against his skin. He could see a couple places where the lashes from the whip had curled over his shoulder. He took a deep breath and turned around, craning his neck to see his back in the mirror. It wasn’t pretty. His whole back was basically one big scab, with a few bright red marks that he had recently reopened. He shuddered. Toothless crooned worriedly. Tony let out a shaky exhaled and scratched Toothless’s neck.

He dressed in the clothes Jarvis brought. Jarvis had given him jogging pants and a simple tee shirt. Tony hadn’t even known that Jarvis owned such casual clothing. They were a little too long, but they were less baggy than he was used to from borrowed clothes. He was a bit at a loss as to what to do with the extra pant leg. All the pants he was used to were made for him, so they simply ended where his leg did. In the end, he knotted it and considered it good enough.

He leaned against Toothless and hopped back out to the living room. He had his bloody clothes slung over his shoulder and his prosthetic held in the hand that wasn’t gripping Toothless’s saddle for balance. Jarvis was waiting by the counter, a steaming bowl held in his hands. His eyes widened when he saw Tony, and he hurried forward to help.

“I got it,” Tony said, unable to help the touch of annoyance that crept into his voice. Jarvis hesitated but backed off, watching with worried eyes as Tony grabbed the counter and dragged himself onto the bar stool there. He dropped his prosthetic on the ground with a low _thunk_.

“Why don’t you put it on?” Jarvis asked. “In case you fall.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m not _that_ bad Jarvis. I’m not gonna fall. Besides, wet skin on leather equals blisters, and that shit _hurts_.”

“Language,” Jarvis automatically abolished, but it was half-hearted and distracted. He set the steaming bowl in front of Tony, and Tony inhaled the comforting scent of Jarvis’s chicken noodle soup. It was what Jarvis always made for Tony whenever he got sick. He grabbed the spoon, took an eager bite.

And nearly spit it out again, eyes watering.

“What’s wrong?” Jarvis asked, startled and a little insulted.

Tony winced. “Sorry, sorry! I guess I’m just used to blander foods now. That caught me by surprise.” He shook his head. “I didn’t realise there was so much … _much_ … to chicken soup. Felt like acid in my mouth.”

Jarvis frowned. “What are you used to then?”

Tony shrugged. “Just, plain food. Plain bread, roasted fish, chicken, boar -”

“ _Boar?”_

Tony winced again. “Ah, yeah. Boar. Mean suckers. I’ve seen them go after wounded dragons before. But yeah. Boar.”

Jarvis stared for a long moment, then sighed. “I have some chicken breast in the fridge. I can pan roast it with no added flavoring. Will that be better?”

Tony smiled at him, relieved that Jarvis was taking it as well as he was. “That would be awesome, thanks J.”

Jarvis glanced at Toothless, who was settled on the floor next to Tony’s stool, unintentionally blocking the kitchen exit. “And your dragon, does he require anything?”

Tony’s smile widened. “No, he ate right after the sun went down. He should be okay for a while still."

Jarvis nodded, but filled a mixing bowl with water anyway. He set it down by Toothless. The dragon gave him a surprised look, then crooned a thanks before lapping up some water.

Jarvis opened the fridge, started rummaging around. “I think that now would be a good time for you to start telling me that story, Anthony.”

Tony nodded and took a deep breath.

So he told Jarvis everything. He left out no detail. He told him about _The Seeker_ going down, about the raft. He told him about waking up on Berk, about Gothi and Gobber and Stoick. He told him about the other teens, about smithing, about reading the runes. He told him about the dragon raids. About shooting down Toothless. During the story, Jarvis said nothing. He cooked, then set a plate with chicken breast, plain wheat bread, and salad without dressing on the counter by Tony’s elbow.

Only when Tony got to the part about the Red Death and losing his foot did Jarvis react. The butler shuddered and turned away, eyes closing.

Tony hesitated, pausing his story for the first time since he started. “Jarvis? Are you okay?”

“You had a birthmark on the sole of that foot,” Jarvis murmured. “I used to tickle it when you were a baby, to get you to laugh.”

Tony eyed him, worried. “Jarvis?”

He shook his head. “Keep going.”

So Tony did. He told him about being accepted by the Vikings. About Astrid teaching him to fight with a sword. He told him about Snoggletog, about Toothless leaving and coming back. He pulled his helmet out of his saddlebag, and without letting himself look too closely at it, handed it to Jarvis. He told him about the Outcasts, about the Berserkers. He told him about the Screaming Death, about Fishlegs discovering Gronkle Iron. He told him about killing the Outcast, about his braids that he still wore.  

Finally, he told him about that last day on Berk. About the Mark. And what it meant.

Jarvis’s face was white in the light of the morning sun that was beginning to rise. “They turned on you? Just like that? If they were your family, like you say they were, shouldn’t they have believed you?”

Tony shook his head. “It’s not that simple,” was the best he could do. “They never had any issues with Southerners, then I show up and three years later, seventy three Vikings are dead. And they had my letters. I can see why they thought I told them to come.” Even now, Tony couldn’t help but defend Berk.

Jarvis shook his head, but thankfully let it go. “There is a lot to be done,” Jarvis said, suddenly changing topics. “Your father’s will will have to be re-evaluated. You do not get control of Stark Industries until you turn twenty one anyway, so Mr. Stane will remain in charge for the time being. You will need to re-apply to MIT -”

Tony had forgotten about that. He couldn’t help the small surge of excitement. MIT. _Engineering_. It was a pathetically small consolation in the face of losing Berk, his family, but he couldn’t help but feel a little excited.

Jarvis was still talking. “We will need to be careful about telling the world that you are back, and about introducing Toothless to them.”

Tony reaching out with his foot to rub Toothless’ head. The dragon had stayed quiet while Tony talked, and had moved closer when he reached the hard part of the story. Now, he was half asleep. Tony didn’t blame him. His own sleep schedule was completely turned around due to them traveling at night, and now that the sun was coming up his body thought that it was time to sleep. He made himself stay alert though. There was still more to do.

Tony nodded to Jarvis. “I don’t want them to know about what made me leave Berk. People are already leery of Vikings. If they knew they did this, America might decide to just drop a bomb on them and be done with it.”

“They might deserve it,” Jarvis muttered, more bitter than Tony had ever heard him.

“ _No_ _!"_  Tony protested. “They saved my life! They accepted me, treated me as part of the tribe for years! Yes, it ended badly, but they don’t deserve to die because of a misunderstanding!”

“A ‘misunderstanding’ that lead to them torturing you!” Jarvis snapped. Tony opened his mouth, but Jarvis just held up a hand. “I know they are important to you, Anthony. What you choose to tell the world is your choice. I will not argue it. For now, you are exhausted. You need to sleep. I’ll contact a private physician to take a look at you once you’ve rested, and before you protest, I’ll have you know that I know how to have a NDA drawn up. They won’t breathe a word about your injuries to the press.”

Tony smiled at him, relieved. “Thanks, J. Really. Thanks.”

Jarvis smiled, and stood up from the stool he had sat on. “Of course, Master Anthony. I will get the guest bedroom ready for you, if you would please allow me a few moments.”

Jarvis walked away, and Tony sat on the ground next to Toothless with an exhausted sigh. “Well,” he murmured to his dragon. “I guess that could have gone worse.” Toothless crooned and licked at Tony’s hair. Tony sighed and slumped over to lie next to Toothless, burying his face in his dragon’s neck. Within seconds, he was asleep.                


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, once again, I'm sorry for the long break. I had a difficult time cranking out this chapter. Then, I was busy with band, school, and work and just didn't have time to write. But it's finally done! And we hit 800 kudos! 
> 
> As always, thank you EchoMoonstone for betaing! 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! We're getting closer to the Marvel movies!

After making the bed with his finest silk sheets and setting a glass of water and a bottle of Advil on the bedside table, Edwin Jarvis leaned his forehead against the wall and took a deep, shuddering breath. He hadn’t had a chance to regain his equilibrium.

 _Tony was back_.  

The little boy who would rather take toys apart than play with them. The teenager who got into fights at school. The gleaming grin he offered the world and the silly smile that was reserved just for Edwin.

The baby that he had poured all his grief into after his wife died. Now, he sat in Edwin’s living room. Looking more like a man than that gangly teenager that Edwin had waved goodbye to when he had left to go with Howard on that Godforsaken ship.

Edwin had held out hope. Even when Howard and the Missus’s bodies were recovered. As long as young Anthony’s body was not found, there was hope. Because no one knew better than Edwin how resourceful that boy was. But when they quit looking, Edwin had had no choice but to give up. Even if Tony was out there, if no one was looking than he couldn’t be found. And while Edwin had always been well paid, he certainly couldn’t afford to send out long-term, extensive search parties.

Anthony had always been a difficult baby. When Howard and the Missus brought him home from the hospital, they basically dropped him into Edwin’s arms and went on with their lives. Howard was already a vastly different man than the friend he had once been to Edwin. But Jarvis had just lost his Ann, and the baby was a much needed distraction from the grief. Tony had screamed constantly, and was nearly impossible to sooth. As a toddler, it had only gotten worse. Anthony’s cries went from the usual restless baby sounds into hysterical shrieks, as if he was in pain. He was examined by the best doctors in the world, but they couldn’t find anything physically wrong with him. He was too young for any kind of psychological testing.

Edwin was tormented by the miserable baby, and he felt like a failure for not understanding what was upsetting the child so much. It wasn’t until he had to accompany Howard to an all-day business conference that he realized.

As most business conferences are, it was mind-numbingly boring. Edwin bore it without too much trouble, but Howard’s mood visibly soured with every passing hour. By the end, he was half-drunk and snarling at anyone who tried to talk to him. There was a two hour recess for dinner, and Howard vanished into the onsite lab. When he emerged, it was with grease smeared across one cheek and a charming smile.

Then it clicked for Edwin. Tony was _bored_. He was his father’s son, and he needed more mental stimulation than the typical toddler. So Edwin got things for him to take apart, watching him closely all the while to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. And Anthony thrived.

But he never seemed to click. He got into fights at school, was bullied mercilessly. He had a sharp tongue and never hesitated to unleash it. He was restless, unhappy. His mind moved far faster than his mouth could keep up with, and he usually got frustrated and gave up when he tried to explain something to people that they didn’t understand right away. He was a whirlwind of energy and brilliance, but he never seemed content.

The Vikings had hurt Tony terribly, and it was unforgivable in Edwin’s mind. But even he could admit that under their care, Anthony seemed to have found himself. Even now, hurt and scared. Tony was noticeably steadier. Not once during that long story did he trip over himself trying to explain something that only made sense in his mind, or get frustrated and quit. He stood with an easy confidence and didn’t try to hide anything. More than once in that heartbreaking story, Tony’s eyes had welled with tears, but he didn’t try to hide them. He didn’t restlessly scan the room, or flinch from unexpected touches. He had constantly kept an eye on his dragon - and what a beautiful creature that was, if slightly terrifying - but even after the enormous betrayal he had suffered, Tony seemed to grow under the Vikings’ care in a way that he hadn’t under Edwin’s.

And maybe he was resentful of that. He was mature enough to admit it. The Vikings never stayed up all night rocking that screaming baby. They never put bandaids on his scrapes and read him bedtime stories. They never stood between a drunken, angry Howard and a cowering Anthony, a broken vase between them. They never spent hours on the phone with the principal  of the expensive boarding school Howard had the boy in as soon as he was old enough, trying to get Anthony’s biggest bullies placed into different classes.

And yet, they were the ones Tony loved. They were the ones he saw as family, even after everything they did.

Edwin sighed and straightened up from the wall. He didn’t want to leave Anthony waiting too long. But when he walked back out into the lounge, it was to find the seat Anthony had been in empty. Edwin froze, terror curling around his heart. He had a moment where he thought that he had hallucinated everything and Tony really _was_ dead. But then his eyes landed on the Night Fury, still curled up on his floor, and he exhaled in relief. There was no way his mind would conjure up a creature like that. The dragon’s eyes - far too intelligent to belong to any ordinary animal - were locked on Edwin, looking distrustful. Toothless - and leave it to Tony to give such a dangerous creature a cute, harmless name - lifted his head and eyed Edwin suspiciously. Edwin could relate. The last thing he wanted to do was trust a _dragon_ with Tony’s life.

Edwin could see Tony’s hair - too long, he’d have to call someone about that too - under the dragon’s wing, his face pressed to the Night Fury’s neck. The wing completely hid his body.

“You better not hurt him,” he whispered, his voice harsh and filled with emotion. “He has been through enough, hurt by enough people he loves. You better not hurt him too.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected. The way Anthony talked about the dragon, Edwin half-expected it to nod or something. Instead, its eyes narrowed in obvious irritation and it turned its head to pointedly lick Tony’s hair. Anthony muttered irritably in his sleep, pulling one hand out from under the wing to swat blindly at Toothless’s nose before curling deeper into the dragon.

It startled a laugh out of Edwin, which he did his best to muffle with his hand to avoid waking Tony. “Yes, I can see how you two get along so well,” he murmured, warmth blooming in his heart and a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.           

He tried to take Tony from the dragon, to carry him to bed the way he did when Anthony was a child, but the dragon’s wing tightened around the boy and it hissed threateningly when Edwin tried to touch him. Edwin sat back and sighed. Tony could take himself to bed once he woke. Edwin didn’t want Toothless to wake Tony when he so desperately needed the rest. And he definitely didn’t want to anger a creature like that.

Besides, Edwin had plenty to do.

The first call he made was to Obadiah Stane. He had control over the Stark fortune and the lawyers they would need to give Tony back everything that was rightfully his, and to protect the dragon Tony clearly loved so strongly. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Stane didn’t answer. Edwin left a vague voicemail, simply saying he needed to speak to him urgently regarding Tony Stark and please call him back as quickly as possible.

The next call he made was to his personal physician. They had been friends in college, and Edwin knew he could trust him not to tell anyone about Anthony or his injuries. Once he had been informed of the situation and had agreed to come by in an hour, Edwin hung up the phone and considered what to do. There really wasn’t much more he _could_ do, not yet anyway. Tony would need his own clothes, and had mentioned that Toothless didn’t like the chemical scents that were in most soaps and detergents, so Edwin knew he’d have to get some scentless things for Tony. Tony would also need to see a tailor to have clothes either made for him or altered for his missing foot. He should see a prosthetist about getting an upgraded prosthetic as well. Toothless’s saddle and harness needed to be replaced, as they were crusted with salt from the ocean and cracking. He would need a new tailfin, since the one he was wearing still had the Vikings’ symbol on it. And they were not worthy of being connected to Tony any longer.

But very little of this could be done until Tony’s return was made public. And before that happened, Tony would need at least a little time to heal. There wasn’t much time left until the fall semester started at MIT. Of course, they’d be willing to set deadlines aside for Tony Stark, but they should hurry. Ideally, Edwin would want Anthony to take a year off to adjust to being home again, but he knew Tony. Tony would tear himself up over what happened with the Vikings. He would do better if he was kept busy.

Someone knocked on his door. Edwin sighed, and went to wake Anthony.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *                 

Tony woke up to Toothless’s chest rumbling in a deep, threatening snarl. Instantly wide awake, Tony reached for the knife in his belt and shoved out from under Toothless’s wing, ready to fight. But there was no knife in his belt, and he fell when his metal foot didn’t touch the ground like he expected. Toothless, as expected, caught him and held him up as Tony tried to get his bearings. He looked around, blinking. Right. Jarvis’s apartment. His prosthetic was still on the ground a few feet away. Jarvis was kneeling, looking startled by Tony’s reaction.

Tony was still sprawled over Toothless’s neck where his dragon had caught him. He took a deep breath and pushed himself up, balancing easily on one foot.

“Apologizes,” Jarvis said, slow and cautious. Toothless was no longer growling, but Tony could feel the tension in his dragon’s muscles. He patted Toothless’s neck. His Night Fury let out a deep breath and relaxed a little.

“The doctor is here,” Jarvis said. “He knows about your dragon, and your situation. So you don’t have to do anything. But I did not want to let him in while you were sleeping.”

Tony wasn’t sure he wanted the doctor to know about Toothless. The last thing he needed was for word to get out about him before Tony could control it. But he trusted Jarvis. If Jarvis said there was nothing to worry about, Tony wasn’t going to create problems where they didn’t exist.

So he nodded and hopped over to pick up his prosthetic, strapping it on as Jarvis let the doctor in.

Tony was ready for dealing with the doctor. The man looked like he was about Jarvis’s age, and they greeted each other with an easy familiarity that eased some of Tony’s worries. He was ready for the man’s shock and amazement at meeting Toothless. He was ready for fighting him about being given drugs - Tony wanted his wits about him, and he was used to pain.

What he wasn’t ready for was Toothless’s reaction.

The dragon was fine at first. Calm and collected, watching the doctor - who introduced himself as Dr. Henry McCoy - setting up his things. It was only when Dr. McCoy reached to shake Tony’s hand that Toothless reacted.

The dragon teeth rang together inches from Dr. McCoy’s fingers. The man jerked back with a startled gasp, and Toothless hissed angrily. Tony reflexively grabbed at Toothless’s nose and tried to turn his face away. The dragon didn’t budge an inch.

“Toothless!” he scolded sharply. “What’s gotten into you?” He glanced at the doctor, feeling almost embarrassed. “It’s been a long couple of weeks,” he said, slightly defensive. “He isn’t usually like this.” Toothless was staring flatly at the doctor. Tony knew his dragon well enough to know what was going through his head. _Look, but don’t touch_.

It was an abrupt reminder that it wasn’t just Tony who was on edge. Tony had been so focused on surviving, on just making it back to the South and away from Vikings who would take one look at the Mark and kill him, that he hadn’t realized Stoick hadn’t just betrayed him. He’d broken Toothless’s trust as well.

Something Toothless clearly had no intention of allowing to happen again.

“It’s okay,” he murmured to Toothless. “He’s a healer, like Gothi. Just, some different tools. You can stay right here with me. I won’t make you leave this time. I promise.”

Toothless gave a deep sigh and turned away from Dr. McCoy to look at Tony. Then he rumbled a little and sat down, glancing back at the doctor.

Tony gestured Dr. McCoy closer. “It’s okay,” he told him. “You can come over now.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Toothless meeting Uncle Obie - who reminded Tony that it would have to just be Obie from now on - didn’t go much better.

In fact, it went worse.

Tony had no idea when Jarvis had told Obie that he was back, or about Toothless. But suddenly, there was a knock on the door and Jarvis didn’t even have time to open it before it was flung open. Obie burst in, a wide grin on his face and his arms outstretched. Tony was sure he would find himself in a very painful hug in a moment, but suddenly Obie was sprawled over the ground. Tony gasped and tried to grab at Toothless - _again_ \- but the dragon was curling his tail around Tony’s legs and pulling him back against his shoulder, hissing furiously at Obie. He re-folded the wing he had used to hit Obie and snorted, lips curling back.

Obie chuckled - only slightly nervous sounding, which was impressive - and pushed himself back to his feet, careful not to come close again.  

“Well Edwin,” Obie said, smiling at Toothless. “You certainly weren’t exaggerating. That dragon is definitely something else.”

Jarvis had stepped closer when Toothless lashed out, but now he was standing in a position Tony recognized well, with his feet planted shoulder-width apart and his hands folded behind his back.    

“I do not exaggerate,” he said stiffly. The informal behavior from the night before was gone. Now Jarvis was every inch the professional butler Tony remembered from his childhood. “However, Master Toothless is acting abnormally aggressive. I believe he is stressed. Perhaps it would be wise to sit and speak before taking action.”

 _Master Toothless._ Tony could barely hold back a laugh. Looks like the title Tony carried his whole life had been passed down to his dragon. Jarvis probably couldn’t force himself to address anyone, even a dragon, with such familiarity in front of people.

Did that mean Tony was getting Howard’s title? That made the laugh die in his throat.

Obie nodded, and manage to drag his gaze away from Toothless and onto Tony. “It’s good to see you boy!” He said, grinning that white smile that Tony knew well. “When my rescue team never came back, I thought my source was wrong, and you weren’t out there. Never thought you’d be able to get back on your own, and with a dragon no less!”

Tony’s world greyed out, and he thought for a second that he was going to pass out.

_Rescue team?_

“Rescue team?” The words were choked. Toothless crooned with worry and nosed at him. 

Obie blinked, looking confused. “Yes, I sent a rescue team. Someone dropped off a letter with my secretary. She said he was huge, dressed in leather and fur, with dark hair. He was strange, and wasn’t allowed past the lobby. But he gave her a letter to give me, and it was from you, asking for help. I thought it was probably a scam, but the signature looked like yours so I hired some people on the off chance that maybe, somehow, you were out there.”

Tony’s vision washed red. “You sent them? _You sent them?_ They killed _dozens_ of people! My people! I was _exiled_ because of them! Because of _you!”_

Toothless warbled softly at the fury in Tony’s voice. Obie frowned, looking worried, and stepped forward. Toothless’s worried noises turned into a snarl and he snapped at Obie.  Obie took a hurried step back again.

“They were Vikings, Tony! I was trying to _save_ you! What do you mean, exiled? I thought you wanted to come home?”

“I did!” he snapped. _"Y_ _ears_ ago! But I never wanted you to come in and start _killing_ people!”

“I never told them to kill anyone!” Obie protested. “They were armed, sure, but I couldn’t send them across a sea filled with pirates, into _Viking_ territory, without weapons! They were only going to use them to protect themselves! They were going to try to talk to the Vikings!”

‘Well how’d that work out for them?” Tony demanded, his voice harsh and unfamiliar to his own ears. Toothless whined uneasily. “They’re all _dead_. They died painfully under a storm of dragon fire. If they didn’t use weapons, it might have ended peacefully!”

Obie raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. “I don’t know what happened Tony. I wasn’t there. I did the best I could. All I wanted was to bring you home.”

Tony’s shoulders slumped and he sighed. It wasn’t really Obie’s fault. He didn’t know that the Vikings were good people. Really, it was a prejudice the entire South held. All the more reason why Tony had to tread carefully when he explained the Vikings to the world.

Obie clapped his hands loudly, making both Tony and Toothless jump. “Right! Down to business. First things first. We’ll need to hold a press conference and tell everyone you’re back -”

“No press conference,” Tony interrupted. “Too loud, too many people. It’ll spook Toothless.”

Obie blinked. “Your dragon? Well, it wouldn’t be coming obviously. You can’t just walk the streets with a dragon running loose after you, Tony. No more than you can walk around with a tiger on a leash.”

Tony scowled and felt his shoulders tighten defensively. “Toothless stays with me. That’s non-negotiable, Obie. End of story.”

Obie sighed. “Tony. You know I’d do anything for you. But think realistically. Now, I’m sure we can keep the rights to it for the company, under the claim of it being part of the weapons industry -”

Tony couldn’t keep listening to this. It suddenly felt like Obie was listing off every reason why he’d never wanted to return to the South. “Toothless isn’t a weapon! And he doesn’t belong to the company! He stays with me! That’s it! And stop calling him a fucking _it!"_

Again, Obie raised his hands in that surrendering gesture. “Now Tony. We can build _him_ a very nice habitat. Something that suits him and his nature far better than a city. Trees, water, it can be just like he’s in the wild, and you can still visit him. Wouldn’t he be happier like that?”

“No,” Tony snapped. “I know him, you don’t. Don’t pretend to know what’s best for him. He wants to be with me.” Toothless snorted and glared at Obie.

Obie sighed a little. “Okay, we’ll hire some lawyers and see what we can do. But Tony, there’s no guarantees.”

Tony wrapped a protective arm around Toothless’s neck. “He stays with me. If they won’t let him, we’ll leave.”

“And go where?” Now it was Jarvis, speaking for the first time in a while. “You cannot return to the Vikings.”

“I don’t care,” Tony said coldly. “We’ll live in the wild, researching dragons. Looking for other Night Furies. We’ll make it work. But we stay together. No matter what.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Obie soothed. “Now, you said no press conference. So what do you want to do?”

Tony had already thought it through. “One reporter, one camera man, and one person for tech support. A one-on-one exclusive.”

Obie frowned, thought it through. “I don’t see why that couldn’t work. I’ll look into it. In the meantime, you need to be cleaned up. We will need tailor for you clothes, someone to cut some leather for your dragon - I assume you can sew the pieces together, so they won’t have to know what they’re making - a hairdresser to clean up that mop -”

Tony’s hand went defensively to his hair. “I wanna keep my braids,” he said, trying to keep the firm tone that made Obie stop arguing with him about Toothless.

Obie stopped talking to blink at him. “Your braids? Tony, while that might be fashionable with Vikings -”

‘It’s not about _fashion_ ,” Tony complained. “I already lost my tribe. I’m not giving up everything they gave me, everything they taught me. I’m keeping my braids. It’s my damn hair.”

Obie sighed. “Fine. But they can at least neaten your hair a little without taking away your braids.”

Tony nodded, pleased. The rest of the meeting went fine. The only other thing he put his foot down on - metaphorically speaking of course - was when they wanted to replace his metal foot with a traditional prosthetic. But he flies with Toothless using that foot. And it was a Viking foot. It was _his_.  

Tony had lost everything. His family was gone. He could no longer fly under Berk’s crest. All he had of Stoick was the helmet on the counter. All he had from Astrid were the braids in his hair. From Gothi, he had the herbalist book. From Gobber, he only had the metal foot.

And that was all. Dumb possessions, poor replacements for the family he’d lost. But he couldn’t let them go.

The only one he still had was Toothless, still glaring at Obie. His dragon. His best friend. He’d do whatever it took to protect his friend, even if it meant giving up everything _again_ and leaving to live the life of a hermit.

Tony no longer had the love and support of his tribe. But he still had Toothless. So he’d fight, and make this life they were forced into work for them both. 


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the one year anniversary for this story! Can you believe it? I started this story at like, 2am when I still lived in the dorms. I remember I was clattering at the keyboard so aggressively I woke up my roommate haha. I had no idea what I was doing, and thought I'd write a couple chapters then quit. I really thought people would hate it, since I had no idea how to write and it was a weird crossover. Yet, one year later, here we are. Over 100,000 words, and plenty more to go. 
> 
> As always, thank you EchoMoonstone for betaing this chapter!

Tony took a week to heal before Obie set up the interview. During that week, his hair was cut - and he nearly wept as his Viking hair was cut down to a good-American-boy kind of cut, although he kept his braids - a tailor came and had a suit altered for him, as well as some everyday clothes, the doctor came twice more, and Obie brought him some leather cut the way he asked and the metal the way he needed it.

The flight rig was beautiful. Once he finished sewing it together and put it on Toothless, Tony stood back to admire it. Vikings didn’t care about things particularly stylish. They just needed it to work. So Toothless’s flight rig had always been simple, light brown leather that did what it was supposed to and nothing else. This rig was a gorgeous, rich brown - dyed with natural oils that didn’t bother Toothless - that blended gorgeously with Toothless’s gleaming black scales. The metal shoulder stirrups shined even in the unnatural lights of the indoors.

The tailfin was the only part that had given Tony trouble. He couldn’t put Berk’s crest on it for obvious reasons, and he wanted it to make a statement, so he didn’t want plain brown. Obie had suggested Stark Industries’s insignia, but Tony shot that down right away. Toothless was _his_ , not the company’s. He was going to do his damndest to ensure people saw Toothless as a living, breathing creature with needs and thoughts and a personality, not a weapon that belonged to SI. So the tailfin was red and gold -

_his colors during the dragon races on Berk_

\- with arrow shaped patterns -

_the pattern painted onto Toothless’s scales and Tony’s skin in the races_

It had nothing to do with Berk, he told himself. Toothless was stunning in red, and the gold brought out Tony’s eyes -

_Astrid had said so_

\- and there was no reason he had to hide this part of himself. While he might not be among Vikings anymore, he was still a Viking.

Right?

Sure, he’d cut his hair, but he still had the braids. He was wearing jeans instead of leather pants, but he still had his metal foot that Gobber made him. Toothless’s flight rig was gleaming and fancier than it really needed to be, but it was still the same basic design as the one he’d made on Berk two years ago.   

He told himself it didn’t matter what he looked like on the outside. Astrid had told him that he was a Viking at heart -

 _Stoick, mouth tight, eyes filled with betrayal,_ “ _He is not a Viking-”_

And he always would be one, no matter what he wore or how he styled his hair -

_“- and it was wrong of me to think he could become one.”_

Toothless warbled softly and nosed Tony’s face. Tony realized his cheeks were wet. He sniffed angrily and rubbed his face dry before giving Toothless a scratch on the chin that had the dragon’s third eyelids partly showing and his tongue lolling out in a goofy smile.

Tony smiled and stretched out his back with a groan. Toothless cocked his head at the pops in Tony’s spine. The apartment was quiet. It was late, and Jarvis was sleeping.

“Come on, bud,” Tony whispered, gesturing to the fire escape. Toothless’s ear plates stood up and he bounded over to the door to wait, grinning gummily. Tony grinned back and grabbed the jacket Jarvis had given him, joining his dragon. Together, they winged their way into the dark sky, arrowing straight up, above the light of the city.

It had been five days since he’d shown up in Jarvis’s apartment. This was their first night with the new rig, and Tony hated being grounded with a burning passion. Toothless wasn’t much better. The dragon had treated everyone with harsh suspicion ever since they arrived - even Jarvis got growled at when he tried to touch Tony without invitation - but the dragon’s temper had noticeably soured with each passing day stuck inside. He seemed to have a particular problem with Obie. The older man couldn’t even be in the room without Toothless growling, and if he tried to come close Toothless wouldn’t fail to drop into a spread-footed stance, snarling so loud Tony was afraid the neighbors would hear. Thankfully, Obie had enough of a survival instinct that he never tried to touch Tony without telling him first so Tony could quiet Toothless. Even then, the dragon’s nose would be wrinkled in obvious - obvious to Tony anyway - irritation, and the Night Fury’s eyes tracked every movement Obie made.

It was difficult re-adjusting to living in New York. The constant noise kept him awake, and he always felt like something was missing without hearing the crackle of a fire, without the crash of waves hitting Berk’s cliffs. Jarvis bought him a machine that played the sounds of water lapping on a beach, but it couldn’t compare to the loud crash of icy waves striking rock. And it couldn’t drown out the sounds of the city. Every horn honk, every screech of brakes, every siren, made Tony nearly jump out of his skin. Toothless wasn’t any better. They spent their nights huddled on the floor together, comforting each other through the noise that shouldn’t have been as strange and foreign as it was.

And that was another thing. He couldn’t sleep in a bed. The mattress was too soft, and Tony was too used to his wood, mattress-less bed he had on Berk. He felt like he was sinking, suffocating. So he stayed on the floor, curled under Toothless’s wing. He and Toothless were both happier like that. Jarvis didn’t know of course. Tony and Toothless kept odd sleeping hours, partly during the day and partly at night. But old habits die hard, and when the sun came up, Tony was always up with it. Jarvis got up at 8am no matter what, but Tony and Toothless were always waiting in the kitchen.

Jarvis had been spending way too much money on organic, fresh meat for Toothless. The butler never complained, but Tony felt bad. That high quality meat was expensive, and Toothless needed a lot of it. But soon, Tony would have more money than he knew what to do with and he could fill Jarvis’s pockets. Toothless had been eating the meat, but Tony knew he wasn’t happy about it. Toothless liked his food very, very fresh. Usually he preferred to hunt it himself, although he typically wouldn’t turn down a free meal.           

Toothless and Tony climbed high above the lights of the city, above the suffocating smog. Tony inhaled the thin, but clean air and let out a sigh of relief. Toothless purred under him, as happy as Tony to be back in the air. Tony’s back was still healing, but thanks to Toothless the wounds were closed. The skin that grew back was pink and tender, and Tony could already see the outlines of the harsh, ropey scars that were forming. Still, it was healed enough that as long as they were careful, they could probably do some fishing.

They flew a few miles out over the water, far from any wandering eyes and hopefully out of any supervised areas. Their fishing wasn’t overly successful, since Toothless refused to dive deeper than a few inches into the water and was reluctant to move too fast. Tony was careful not to bend too far over Toothless’s neck and not to strain his healing back too much. Although it was a relatively slow flight, it was wonderful to be back in the air. And New York was pretty at night, all lit up. It was ugly and smelly during the day, but it wasn’t too bad at night.

Tony sighed and carefully laid back against Toothless. He missed Berk. He missed the cold, icy air. He missed the gorgeous scenery. He missed the grass. He missed the roar of dragons, the shouting of Vikings. He even missed the smell of Gobber’s socks when he took them off in the forge to let the sweat dry.

He missed being Hiccup.

How the hell had his letters made it South?

Sure, Obie sent the ‘rescue team.’ He could wrap his head around how that whole mess started. But how had the letters made it South to begin with? Obie had said the letters were given to his secretary, by a man dressed in leather and fur. That fit the description of a Viking. But who? Certainly, no one on Berk had gone South. He also said he was huge. Most Vikings had larger builds than the typical Southerner, but Obie was a large man himself. So if his secretary called him huge, especially while looking at Obie, he must have been big even for a Viking. And he had dark hair.

That really didn’t narrow it down much, but Tony’s breath caught. Because he remembered how Alvin had been absent lately. For the majority of the summer, there had been no sign of him. His tribe had still attacked of course, but Alvin himself hadn’t been there. Instead, Savage and Dagur had led both the Berserkers and the Outcasts. When Tony had killed that Outcast over a year ago, Alvin hadn’t been there.

It made sense. But there was no way Alvin would have even known about Tony’s letters, let alone gotten his hands on them. And if he’d forced Trader Johann to give them to him, or stolen them, Johann would have said something.

Someone from Berk must have gotten the letters from Johann, given them to Alvin. And as soon as the thought entered his head, Tony bolted upright, eyes wide. Toothless startled under him, but Tony barely noticed.

 _Mildew_.

That snake! It had to have been him! He was the only Berkian to still call Tony a Southerner to his face and had made it clear he wanted Tony gone, along with the dragons. He was also the only one to have sneaky, detailed plans about things. Vikings tend to beat problems with their heads until it broke, but Mildew had always been a coward, and liked plans that didn’t involve him having to face the issue head on. This was a more complicated plan than his usual little schemes but was still a very Mildew thing to do.  

And if Tony put it together…

His friends might as well.

They were smart, dedicated. And they had Mildew right there on the island. It wouldn’t take long before they thought to look into him. And Mildew had always been a coward. When faced with an angry dragon, he never failed to fold.

So Berk might still learn the truth. And when they did, Stoick _had_ to ask Tony to come home. He’d realize he was wrong, send a Terror Mail. Those little dragons might not be the smartest, but they could track a scent across the world.

Tony might still get to go home.

His heart was pounding with joy and excitement, his hands shook. Toothless crooned, and Tony leaned down to wrap his arms around his dragon’s head, grinning like a fool. Toothless snorted, shaking off Tony’s grip before he could unbalance the dragon, but Tony’s excitement couldn’t be dampened.

Berk might not be out of his reach forever.

He would cheer out loud if he wasn’t worried about getting caught.                

Toothless picked up on his mood, and roared as they soared higher, spinning smoothly and dropping again. Tony rolled his eyes at the noise they couldn’t afford, but couldn’t stop grinning. They had to cut their flight short after that, since Tony was worried that Toothless’s roar may have caught someone’s attention.  

They landed lightly in Jarvis’s apartment, closing the fire escape behind them. Tony was still grinning as he unsaddled Toothless and wrapped the saddle and rig around the tailfin then tucked it away in the guest room. His dragon followed after him as Tony walked back out into the living room. Toothless had been extremely reluctant to let Tony out of his sight ever since they’d fled Berk.

Tony grabbed his helmet from where it was still on the counter and collected his journal and herbalist book. He took them back to the guest room, set them next to Toothless’s gear. It would certainly take time for a Terror to make its way South, and there was no telling when they’d figure out what had happened. But Tony wanted to be ready, just in case.

He let out a deep breath as he sat lightly on the edge of the bed. He would still follow their original plan, until he got word from Berk. He would still announce that he was back to the world, would still re-apply to MIT. Until Stoick sent him a Terror Mail, Tony could work on Southerners’ opinions on Vikings, maybe prevent another tragedy in the future. And he could upgrade his foot and Toothless’s gear.

He also wanted to make sure he got a sample of Jarvis’s scent to use to train a Terror. He remembered how Jarvis had acted when he first showed up and he didn’t want to do that to him again. So once the Terror from Berk arrived, Tony would make sure to talk to Jarvis before he left, and once he got a few minutes alone in Jarvis’s apartment, he’d swipe one of his shirts or something.  

Tony took off his metal foot, dragged a throw off the foot of the bed and curled up in his usual place under Toothless’s wing. Toothless purred softly, burying his nose in Tony’s hair. Tony felt the breeze as Toothless snuffled at Tony’s new haircut.

Tony snuggled into Toothless’s neck and fell asleep with a smile.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The reporter Obie chose was young and fresh-faced, still believing she could save the world. Tony forgot her name as soon as it passed her lips. He gave a tight smile as they shook hands. Her fingernails were ridiculously long, expensively painted. _Southerners_. Those nails wouldn’t make it ten minutes on Berk. She was wearing stupidly high heels. She would fall on her face after two steps on ground that wasn’t covered in cement. Her hair was long and loose, just asking to be blown in her face and caught on branches. Her muscles were soft, arms thin. It was hard to believe anyone could find her attractive. He remembered how Astrid could heft a hundred pound sheep over her shoulder without help. _That_ was far sexier than some Southerner whose hands were as soft as her muscles.

She would have never made it on Berk. Tony could barely keep from curling his lip as she baby talked at Toothless, who stared flatly at her.

Tony could hardly wait until Stoick sent him that Terror Mail and got him out of there.

When had Tony started seeing Southerners the same way Stoick had first looked at him?

Obie had only told her who he was and about Toothless and the Vikings. She claimed she wanted her reactions during the interview to be genuine, so she didn’t want specifics yet. Obie had also told her - on Tony’s request - not to wear anything scented. No perfume or deodorant, and not to take a shower that day. Her clothes were dry cleaned with natural ingredients. Tony _really_ needed Toothless to come off well on camera.

They set up by the window, about five feet apart. They were in chairs sitting opposite of each other, Toothless sitting next to Tony. The camera was on, and Tony watched as the soft Southerner pulled on her camera mask and offered up a professional smile.

She was appropriately suspicious of his claims of being Tony Stark, and she had clearly done her research when she demanded who his third grade teacher was.    

It would have been easier and more credible if Obie was part of the interview, but Toothless still didn’t like Obie and Tony needed Toothless’s initial introduction to the world to go well. They went through the whole _Night Furies aren’t real_ thing, had Toothless show his fire in a slow burn.     

“So,” she finally said. “What happened to you?”

Tony took a deep breath. He was going to avoid lying as much as possible. “Well,” he said. “It’s a …. long story.”  She waited for him to continue.

“The ship sank,” Tony said. “I was the only one to get off. I made it onto a rescue raft. I don’t know how long I was stuck at sea. Eventually, I passed out and woke up in a Healer hut on a Viking island.”

“Vikings?” she asked, even though Tony knew she knew this part. “They didn’t kill you?”

Tony shook his head quickly, a sharp denial. “ _No_. Vikings get a bad rep. They’re good people. I mean, they have some rough edges. If I was an adult, they almost certainly would have left me to die. They’re pretty suspicious of Southerners -”

“Southerners?” she interrupted.

He blinked at her, not understanding. “Yeah, you know, people from the Southern continents.”

She tipped her head. “Is that a Viking term?”

He stared blankly at her. “I - I guess so.” How had he not noticed that he’d started saying that?

"Sorry for interrupting,” she said with a smile. “Please, continue.”

He nodded. “Like I was saying, Vikings are pretty suspicious of Sout - Americans. Or anyone from the Southern nations. And you can’t say it’s without reason. America has a pretty nasty reputation for pushing themselves into other cultures and ripping them apart. But they took me in anyway.”

“Did you meet your friend there?” she asked, smiling at Toothless.

He nodded again. “Yes, but not how you think. The Vikings were at war with the dragons. I spend a year forging weapons at the forge under the instruction of the blacksmith, for Vikings to kill the dragons.”

She blinked at him startled. She didn’t know this part of the story. “You killed them?”

Quickly, he shook his head. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t know how to fight, and was too young anyway. I just made the swords.” Toothless gave a bored sigh and carefully balanced one side of his jaw on Tony’s shoulder. Tony smiled and laid a hand on Toothless’s nose as the reporter cooed at them.

“So how did you end up with him?” she asked.

“I shot him down,” Tony said simply. She blinked, startled, but Tony was annoyed with the interruptions and continued before she could speak. “I didn’t know anything about dragons, and thought they were mindless killers. I intended to kill him. But I couldn’t. So I let him go, but he couldn’t fly. His left tailfin was gone.” At Tony’s soft murmurer, Toothless swung his tail around to show off his prosthetic.

Tony was purposely keeping it short and to the point. He talked about the Red Death, about how the riders came together as a team to protect the village. He didn’t mention anything personal, and didn’t say Berk’s name. He didn’t know if anyone knew the names of the tribes, but he wasn’t going to take the chance.

Finally, she asked “So why did you leave?”

Tony could barely keep from flinching. He was out of practice with hiding his emotions, with the mask he had to wear when dealing with people in the South.

He shrugged, hoping it looked casual. “They knew how to handle the dragons at that point. They didn’t need me anymore. So I thought it was time I came back.”

He dealt with the conclusion of the interview, petting Toothless’s nose the whole time.

As soon as the camera was off, Tony and Toothless vanished into the guest room, leaving Obie to deal with the reporter. His patience was running thin.

He sighed deeply and sat down on the floor, leaning his still-slightly-tender back against the bed. The ball was rolling. Obie would be dealing with lawyers to officially bring Tony back to life, and they’d be fighting to keep Toothless too. He’d have to apply to MIT. Hopefully, Stoick would contact him before he went, but if the freeze came before Stoick sent the letter, Tony might as well get some education before going back home.

Things were in motion. Hopefully, most of it would be irrelevant soon.

Tony watched the window, picturing the day a Terror appeared outside, a letter strapped to its leg.                


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little on the short side, and I'm sorry about that. I'm really just trying to push through this stuff quickly. Next chapter, Tony and Toothless go to MIT and have to face some hard truths. We'll push through Tony's young adulthood at a similar pace to this, and get started on the Iron Man storyline!
> 
> This is also your last chance to vote on an aspect of this story! If you haven't voted yet, you can here: [ https://goo.gl/u6viN2 ]
> 
> As always, thank you EchoMoonstone for betaing!

After his interview with the reporter, things moved quickly.

The media blew up, some claiming it was a miracle, others crying imposter. There were people saying the world was better off without the Stark family in it. And of course, everyone freaked out over Toothless.

Toothless actually received a better response than Tony had anticipated. Mostly, people seemed alarmed at the idea that there was a Night Fury in their midst and were afraid of either him hurting someone or other dragons attacking the way they had when dragons were imprisoned in research centers. But that was fear, not anger, and Tony could work with it. There was the older generation of course, that remembered the destruction and death the dragons had caused and wanted Toothless euthanized, but they were a very small, frail voice among all the others.

Tony spent his free time reading about those incidents, about the dragons that were held and what could cause those attacks. On the surface, it was strange. Yes, dragons would try to help other dragons in distress, but Tony had never seen or heard of dragons fighting in such an organized, militaristic way on their own. Even in the raids before Tony and Toothless killed the Red Death, the dragons had fought in a mad frenzy, often fighting each other as much as the Vikings. But from the pictures he saw and the articles he read, these battles were nothing like that. Dragons came in, sometimes just a few stealthy dragons, sometimes hundreds of winged hunters raining fire on the humans below. They worked together, killed mercilessly, to free the captured dragons and didn’t leave until the faculties that housed the dragons were empty.

They were like an army, flying in to complete a mission and leaving no man - or dragon in this case - behind. It was so organized, it was like they were being lead by some kind of leader, a chief. But there were no humans with those dragons. Something like that would certainly be in the articles Tony read.

So Tony looked deeper, and what he found was horrific. These dragons were not kept in habitats to be observed like Tony had assumed. They were strapped down and restrained, muzzled their whole lives with a feeding tube embedded in their throats. The researchers performed vivisections on their prisoners, took blood and saliva and samples of fire. They cut holes in the dragons’ necks, inserted ports to see how the fire built in the dragons’ throats. They tore living, healthy scales off, which was the equivalent to tearing off a human’s fingernails. They ripped out teeth, broke bones just to see how quickly the dragons recovered.

Tony tried to imagine what they would have done if they had gotten their murderous hands on Toothless and wanted to be sick.

If those ‘studies’ hadn’t already been outlawed. Tony would have devoted his life to making sure they were.

It still didn’t explain the behavior of the dragons trying to rescue them, but after reading about the tortures the captured dragons were put through, Tony didn’t care. He hope every ‘scientist’ the dragons killed suffered as much as their prisoners had.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony and Toothless were moved to Obie’s penthouse for the time being. It was much larger than Jarvis’s apartment and was easier for Toothless to move around in, and had better security. Police came, took Tony’s fingerprints and blood to verify his identity. As soon as the needle came out, Toothless was snarling and the police were drawing guns. It came very close to being a mess, but Tony was able to sooth Toothless and the police hesitantly put their weapons away, although they seemed much less inclined to believe Tony when he said Toothless wouldn’t hurt them.

There was media backlash of course, people claiming Toothless’s reaction proved he wasn’t as tamed as Tony claimed he was. But Obie had the best PR people in the world working on it, and the was an army of lawyers that kept them from trying to take Toothless. They also dealt with the mountain of paperwork that came with coming back to life. Very soon after his initial interview with the reporter, Tony was given his life back in the form of lots of documentation and a huge bank account. He was still technically a minor, but he was able to be emancipated from his dead parents and be independent.

The biggest problem was still keeping Toothless. Southerners loved their black-and-white laws, and it was difficult to get them to see past them. But as irritating as the media was, Tony remembered how to use them to get the world to see things his way.

So he stopped hiding in Obie’s apartment, only flying at night, and started taking Toothless out during the day. He was careful, initially staying far enough from people that they wouldn’t panic or try to attack Toothless. They flew over peoples’ heads, blasting around tight corners and dodging the annoying telephone wires and traffic lights strung up everywhere. People took pictures and screamed and laughed and everything in between, but Tony felt oddly removed from it all. He knew it was because he wasn’t interacting with them. The only people he talked to were Jarvis, Obie, lawyers, PR, and the police. So he started going out on foot more, with Toothless at his side. People hung back, giving Tony and Toothless a wide bubble, which was good. No dragon liked people they didn’t know touching them, and Toothless had been extra sensitive about that since they’d fled Berk.

Oddly enough, it was children who had no fear. And it was a child who turned the tide of the public opinion. Most parents saw Toothless and dragged their kids away. But one mother who was trying to tow a whole pack of kids didn’t notice when one slipped away.

Toothless had always liked kids. Tony really didn’t think much of it when the little boy, maybe four years old, ran over and started gushing over Toothless. Toothless of course, was thrilled and happily crouched down to let the little boy pet his nose and tug on his ear plates, then clamber over his head to awkwardly sprawl over the saddle, giggling madly. Toothless purred and crooned at the kid the whole time, staying still and low to the ground in case the boy fell. Tony was watching them, and realized the street around him was dead silent, which _never_ happens in New York City.

So Tony looked around, and everyone was staring. Some were taking pictures. There was a terrified looking woman with four other kids behind her, that was nervously edging closer. Toothless looked at her at the time time Tony did, and his pupils thinned and his muscles tensed.

“Easy bud,” Tony murmured quietly. “Pretty sure that’s his mom.”

Toothless and the boy both groaned in disappointment when the woman called the kid’s name in a stressed voice. The boy ran back to his family, babbling in that mystery language only children and parents seemed to understand. Tony immediately swung into the saddle and took off, fully prepared to go through another fight with the government claiming Toothless wasn’t safe to be loose in the city.

Instead, the opposite happened.

The switch was flipped, and suddenly Toothless was the most popular creature in America. Everyone seemed to think he was a vulnerable puppy that needed to be protected, and thousands of people protested for Tony’s right to keep him and Toothless free and together.

The problem with that was, people seemed to forget that Toothless wasn’t _actually_ a puppy and he needed to have his boundaries respected. So they crowded around him, everyone trying to pet him, and completely ignored Tony’s attempts to keep them back. So then Toothless of course, roared and snapped at the hands near him. He didn’t hurt anyone of course, but he scared a lot of people and the media exploded with arguments about who was at fault. Whether it was that Toothless really _was_ dangerous, or Tony’s fault for not controlling him, or the crowd’s fault for basically mobbing a dragon.

Almost exactly one week after that incident, something happened that finally caused people to realize Toothless was dangerous and to respect him, but thankfully didn’t go so far as to remove the support they had been giving him.

Really, Tony should have known better than to be wandering the streets seemly alone at dusk. He wasn’t really alone of course - Toothless was playing in the dark alleyways, bouncing between them and stalking the alley cats to see how long he could go undetected.

The man that grabbed him was tall and emaciated. The bare arm that wrapped around his neck was spotted with track marks. He smelled like vomit and his ragged clothing stuck to Tony. But the knife he pressed to Tony’s throat was shiny and new.

Tony was perfectly capable of handling it himself. He might have been barely competent in fighting compared to Vikings, but compared to Southerners he was practically a master.

He didn’t get the chance.

By the time the police had come and scooped the junkie’s intestines back into his body and took a sample of the blood coating Toothless’s claws, Tony’s lawyers had already dealt with the legalities - claiming Toothless was only protecting Tony and was not at fault, same as a dog attacking an invader - and Tony and Toothless were free to go back to Obie’s penthouse.

Tony didn’t know what to make of it. It was hardly the first time he’d been attacked, but usually Toothless didn’t use any more force than necessary. When the Outcasts or the Berserkers would attack Tony back when he was still Hiccup, Toothless would use concussive blasts and his wings and tail to take people down without killing them. Toothless didn’t kill needlessly. Like Tony, Toothless was a peacekeeper.

That homeless man was no threat. He’d clearly been hired by someone, but with the controversy over Toothless it could have been anyone who had paid him. All it would have taken was a single hit to take him down, weak and shaky and strung out as he was. Yet, Toothless didn’t hesitate a second to disembowel him.

Tony remembered how ruthlessly and effectively Toothless killed Hoark. They had both changed drastically on that day. Maybe Toothless just didn’t want to take more risks.

Hiccup had always been a peacekeeper. Even if Tony Stark couldn’t be as much of one, he could try to minimize the damage, and put Toothless under less stress.

He had to be better. Toothless needed him to be.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Toothless didn’t know what to make of this strange land Hiccup had brought him to.

It was so loud Toothless could barely hear himself think. It smelled horrible, and all the different scents clogged Toothless’s nostrils and made him feel like he was suffocating. There was almost no grass to be seen, or trees. The ocean had human-made things floating in it, and smelled funny.

The humans were the strangest part. Toothless had never met humans that weren’t Vikings, and these definitely weren’t. Even the not-Vikings who lived in the same private-nests did not always seem to be a flock. They were usually angry, snarling and showing their teeth in ways Toothless knew for certain were not the smiles Hiccup had taught him. They looked strange too, all with different colored fur and different shades of hide. There were not-Vikings with fur that stood against the wind unmoving, and was colored like the sky or like trees or like the red sweet-plants Hiccup liked. There were humans with hide as white as the paper Hiccup drew on, or as dark as rich soil. They walked with strange wolf-like creatures on ropes or tucked into a sack they carried under their front legs. They were _strange._

The not-Vikings Hiccup had brought Toothless to were less strange in some ways, more in others. They didn’t call Hiccup by his name, something that bothered Toothless but didn’t seem to surprise Hiccup. Toothless had spent most of his life Unnamed. Names were _important_ , and he hated that these not-Vikings didn’t care. There was a tall not-Viking who was happy to see Hiccup - almost too happy, and it made Toothless nervous because that could be dangerous - and the old not-Viking with no fur on his head that was _definitely_ dangerous. That one looked at Hiccup and smiled, but it had too many teeth and Toothless knew he was just baring his teeth and trying to hide it. He smelled of _anger disappointment frustration_ and his body said _stalking hunting threat_ and Toothless _would not_ allow him to hunt Hiccup. Hiccup didn’t seem to understand why Toothless was keeping the hunting not-Viking Hiccup called _Obie_ away, and that was all the more reason for Toothless to be vigilant.

Toothless had already failed once, and had allowed himself to be taken away from Hiccup. Their betraying flock had nearly _killed_ Hiccup. Toothless hated when he had to be away from Hiccup, even though he knew there were things in this strange not-Viking land Hiccup had to do to keep them safe. Whenever Hiccup was gone and left him alone in the private-nest with the hunting not-Viking, Toothless paced and waited for him to come back, terrified that a not-Viking might hurt him without Toothless there to protect him. The old not-Viking - _Obie_ , and Toothless snarled at the name the hunting not-Viking didn’t deserve - was often gone with Hiccup which was _terrifying_ , and when he was alone in the private-nest with Toothless he was smart enough to stay away without Hiccup there to protect him.

When the thin not-Viking that carried a smell that burned Toothless’s nose attacked Hiccup, Toothless didn’t hesitate. He knew Hiccup was unhappy that Toothless had killed the thin one, but Toothless was so very afraid of what these not-Vikings might do to Hiccup that he wasn’t taking anymore chances.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After the whole mess with the homeless man Toothless killed, the media was split on opinions about Toothless again. So Tony hired a photographer. Only one, a young man who was part of a journal that had shown support for Toothless from the start. He took pictures of Tony and Toothless playing, of Toothless chasing paper balls across the ground before burning them to a crisp. Of the way Toothless carefully wrestled with Tony, never putting too much weight on him and keeping his sharp claws away from skin. Of them curled on the ground watching a movie, Tony leaning against Toothless’s shoulder and his Night Fury’s tail draped over his lap.

Toothless didn’t seem overly bothered by the photographer’s presence, although he kept an eye on him and didn’t relax fully. He never rolled over to itch his back on the carpet like he did when it was just Tony and Toothless, and he didn’t take his usual nap. But he also didn’t seem stressed, so Tony called it a win.

The pictures were a hit, and the public was back on Toothless’s side.

About a month after Tony’s return to the South, and he was finally got in front of a judge to keep Toothless. The courthouse was packed of course, and - almost - everyone was on Toothless’s side. The judge was unfortunately not open to bribery, and the trial was long and brutal. Old men came in to talk about all the people they saw dragons kill, young people cried out for Toothless’s protection. Wild animal rehabilitators wanted custody of him, but dragons could not be legally held by them. That same law was what had it difficult for Tony to keep Toothless under his protection. But Tony had the best lawyers on the planet working in his favor.

Ultimately, Tony got an amended version of the Exhibiting Exotic Animals permit. According to the rules of the permit, Toothless was technically supposed to be held in a cage designed to be like his natural habitat, but the thing was no one _knew_ what the natural habitat of a Night Fury was. And since Tony was the closest thing to a dragon expert they had, it was basically up to him. But there was also the dragon research ban that stated dragons couldn’t be held against their will. So Toothless would be housed in whatever environment Tony chose, but couldn’t be trapped in it.

Basically, Tony and Toothless could do whatever they wanted. Tony would be legally and financially responsible for Toothless, but that was how it was on Berk too. Toothless would be allowed in any government owned spaces unless otherwise stated, but private homes and businesses were up to the owner’s discretion. Tony wasn’t worried about that. He had enough money and influence that not many people would say no. And if they did, there would be plenty of others eager for his business.

Besides. Stoick’s letter could arrive anytime, then all of this would be irrelevant.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you EchoMoonstone for betaing!

Tony and Toothless went to college.

Tony bought a small house, about a fifteen minute drive from campus. It was tucked away from the road and the other houses, giving him a little more of a sense of privacy than he had New York City. He went through it, taking down all the doors to make it easier for Toothless to get around in. He took down all the walls in the basement to make it one big room, tore out the carpet and laid down cement. He installed state-of-the-art ventilation so the fumes wouldn’t bother Toothless too much. He built himself a forge, one like Gobber’s. He installed computers and work tables. It wasn’t a bad workshop.

He missed his room in Gobber’s forge.

He put a rock bed in his workshop and on the ground floor for Toothless. The house had support beams that the dragon also liked to hang on.

The media was confused about the small, modest house Tony bought, but he wasn’t looking for something large enough to get lost in. This house was already three times the size of his and Stoick’s home. Tony had gotten his driver’s license - turned out you didn’t need a left foot for that, just the right one - and had bought a big, reinforced truck with a large bed covered with a thick rubber mat for Toothless.

Obie had arranged for a semi-truck trailer to be set up for Toothless in case he needed to be moved by vehicle, but the dragon hated the confined space. So Tony got the truck. Toothless didn’t mind that so much, although he very clearly preferred to fly.

College was interesting. Tony started the semester late, but he worked hard to catch up. He had expected the beginning classes to be easy. And some of them were. But he was surprised at how rusty his programming skills had gotten.

He enjoyed his classes, for the most part. Technically, Toothless wasn’t allowed inside the buildings since he wasn’t a service animal, so he usually just napped on rooftops until Tony got out of class. His Intro to Robotics professor was fascinated by Toothless, and would open the window to let the dragon inside. His interest in Toothless made Tony nervous, but he never tried to touch the dragon, and was one of the few people who wasn’t bombarding Tony with requests for samples of Night Fury blood, saliva, fire, scales. Tony refused all of the requests of course.

Although he had plenty of scales. Toothless shed his scales several times a year, and Tony kept them in a safe in his shop. He had a chest full of them in his room in Gobber’s forge as well. He had no idea what to do with them, but he definitely didn’t want Southerners getting ahold of them. The last thing he wanted was Southerners having _any_ information on Toothless.

Tony also became the unofficial dragon wrangler of the U.S. It turned out that when the Southerners released the dragons, they dramatically reduced the problems with dragons but didn’t completely solve it. There were dragons that took livestock, that got stuck in barns or sheds, dragons that were injured and attacked people that were - in Tony’s opinion - too stupid to avoid an injured dragon. Speed Stingers were a major problem, and Tony knew that was because they couldn’t fly. So they were stuck on the ground with the humans, and it caused some problems.

The first call Tony got was about a Scauldron that had gotten tangled in a fishing net. Then it was a pack of Speed Stingers that had chased a family out of their country house because there one of the pack was injured and they refused to leave it.

It was very difficult to handle alone. He was used to having his team, to working together to figure out how to train the dragons they weren’t familiar with and using each others’ strength while guarding each others’ backs. Now, he had the entire _country_ expecting him to know what to do and no one to turn to.

So Tony’s first year of college was filled with learning, and most of it wasn’t related to his classes. He learned how to sing a Death Song’s music back to them, gaining their trust and allowing him to train them. He learned to stand still while Speed Stingers raced around him and threatened to sting him, until the Lead Speed Stinger approached and Tony could lay a hand on its snout. He learned that the clicking of his socket wrench could confuse a Triple Strike enough to let him get close to it.

He didn’t learn these things all at once of course. But, during his Thanksgiving break from classes, he found the answer to his questions about America’s dragons and a way to learn even more about training dragons than he could have ever imagined.

He found a _nest_.

He and Toothless were exploring, flying in the Midwest, when Toothless’s head suddenly snapped up, pupils thin. Suddenly Tony’s dragon whipped up higher and roared, a strange call Tony had never heard him make before. He ignored Tony’s attempts to get his attention and refused to change direction. Tony’s heart was slamming in his chest, and he couldn’t help but remember when Tony and Astrid had been flying together for the first time, and the Red Death had called in her flock. Remembered how close to death all three of them came that day.

They flew for hours. Tony had no idea exactly how long, but Toothless was flying hard so they certainly covered a lot of ground. It felt like something was pushing Tony away, something he couldn’t explain. He found himself leaning to the side, trying to change Toothless’s direction without realizing he was doing it. Toothless just kept flying, not even seeming to remember that Tony was there.

The sun was beginning to peek out when Toothless suddenly dove towards a heavily wooded island below them. He landed lightly, then snorted and shook his head, his eyes back to normal. But he still seemed anxious, glued to Tony’s side and looking around nervously. Tony barely noticed, his mouth hanging open as he looked around.

It was beautiful. There were dragons, hundreds, _thousands_ of dragons. Flying, napping, swimming. There was a huge mountain covered in trees, a stream running nearby, what looked like a complex system of caves that he could see dragons coming and going from. All the dragons in the area were hesitating, eyeing Tony nervously but not instantly aggressive. A Hobblegrunt stepped closer, her scales flushing a curious purple. Toothless snarled, and the dragon quickly stepped back, scales fading to a timid blue.

The mountain _shuddered_.

Tony whipped around, staring with huge eyes as the mountain shifted, then lifted its head.

Its _head_.

The mountain - the _dragon_ \- had a body that was colored like wood, with trees growing over its back. It was _enormous_ , and although Tony couldn’t see all of it he guessed it was bigger than the Red Death. It seemed to be lying down, since Tony couldn’t see any legs. Its small eyes focused on Toothless, and Toothless quickly looked down, his wings tightening nervously against his back.

“Hey!” Tony probably should have kept his mouth shut. But Tony remembered the fear the dragons had towards the Red Death, and last thing he wanted was for Toothless to get ensnared by another evil giant dragon. The huge dragon’s eyes turned to Tony. And suddenly Tony felt **_curiosity_ ** wash over him. But it wasn’t _him_ feeling that emotion.

It was like a coat over his skin, not uncomfortable but foreign and strange.

“Stop that!” he snapped, shaking his head and trying to dislodge the weird feeling.

**_Reassurance_** , closely followed by **_sympathy_**. Tony stared in disbelief at the dragon. Suddenly, the name of this dragon slammed into him. _Foreverwing_. A legendary dragon he’d read about in books in the Great Hall, but he’d never seen in person, or met anyone who knew anyone who’d met it. But he’d never heard of the emotions this dragon could share.

The Foreverwing looked back at Toothless, and even though he was no longer looking at Tony, Tony still felt the rapid waves of emotion encompassing him.

**_Surprise. Familiarity. Delight. Sorrow._ **

Tony looked back and forth between the Foreverwing and Toothless, trying to decipher what the huge dragon was saying.

“I don’t get it,” Tony said, brow furrowing as he turned back to the dragon. “What, do you know him or something?”

The Foreverwing looked away from Toothless, and locked eyes with a Nightmare watching nearby. The dragon’s pupils thinned and he stood up, walking over to Tony and Toothless. Toothless growled, and the Foreverwing looked at Toothless. Toothless hunched a little, wilting under the huge dragon’s disapproval. But the Alpha dragon didn’t lash out. He just turned his attention back to the Nightmare, who tried to approach again. This time, Toothless allowed it.

The Nightmare leaned down over Toothless neck, and Tony tensed. But the dragon didn’t open his mouth. Instead, he nuzzled the horn on his snout into the base of Toothless’s neck. Toothless made an odd rumbling sound and shuddered. Much to Tony’s shock, the back fins on Toothless’s back popped up taller, and a second row appeared next to the first.  

“Whoa,” Tony whispered. Toothless looked at his new double row of back fins, and gave a happy gummy grin. He bounded around Tony, all concerns and stresses apparently gone. Tony laughed and ran his hands down Toothless’s head and over the new fins. Then the realization of what just happened hit him. The Foreverwing _knew_ about Night Furies. Knew enough to direct another dragon to improve Toothless’s fins, something that as far as Tony was aware, was unique to Night Furies.

He whipped around, to where the dragon was watching with warm eyes. “Are there Night Furies here?” Tony demanded, almost breathless with disbelief and desperate hope.

The **_contentment_ ** that had been warming Tony was replaced with **_sadness_ ** and **_wistfulness_**. Tony’s shoulders slumped. “Oh,” he mumbled. That dragon must be ancient. Maybe it once knew Night Furies. But there obviously weren’t any there now.      

The presence of the Foreverwing explained a lot. Of course those dragons were rescued from the research facilities. Of course they worked in such an organized, militaristic fashion. Because they had an Alpha, a _chief_ leading them from afar.

Tony spent several days at the nest. The longer he spent there, the more reassured he felt that this dragon chief wasn’t like the Red Death. The dragons in this nest weren’t scared and timid like the Red Death’s dragons were. They were leery of Tony, but open to being trained. And after he convinced them to let him touch them, they were instantly trusting and begging for scratches.

Tony didn’t want to leave. But he was already late returning to classes, and they still had a long flight ahead of them.

After he and Toothless returned to their house, it was no longer just the two of them. Dragons from the nest visited, and Tony was grateful that Toothless wasn’t alone. It also made it easier with the dragons that he was being called to deal with. He could rescue injured dragons, treat their injuries, then take them to the nest. The dragons of the nest, even if he had never personally met them, were friendly and easy to handle. He thought that was probably due to the Foreverwing’s influence. It was a fantastic opportunity to learn, and Tony loved going to the nest.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Winter came, and Tony knew that Berk would be completely covered in ice. So the Terror Mail wouldn’t be able to come until spring. As disappointed as he was, he tried not to dwell. Because now he had more time to work on his project.

Tony knew that Toothless was drastically slowed down by Tony. Or more accurately, the tailfin. Toothless struggled to beat Hookfang in the race during Thawfest when Tony was fifteen, and even forced to go the long way it should have been an easy victory for a Night Fury. Toothless was nothing but a shadowed streak when he used to raid Berk. Tony wanted to give him that speed back.

That tailfin couldn’t withstand the force of Toothless’s flight. Tony knew that. It was torn up by harsh winds on Berk, and there was just no way the simple leather and iron could handle it. He knew he could make the skeleton of the fin out of Gronckle Iron, which was strong and light enough to do the job. The problem was the fabric.

He ended up drawing dissolved ethylene through small holes, turning it into a gel. Then he sealed two pieces of the gel in a polyethylene film, creating a composite that he could work with. The end result was a strong, flexible, light fabric.

The first model of the new fin was a simple black, and looked beautiful. He didn’t notice a difference that the fin made in their normal flying. Although Toothless could turn even faster with his new backfins.

He took Toothless out over the water for their first real test of the new fin. It went about as badly as could be expected.

Toothless was hesitant to really put on the speed, and Tony knew he was worried but they couldn’t improve the fin anymore unless they found its limits. So when he finally convinced Toothless to put on some real speed, he found the limits.

It held up okay at first. Tony didn’t hold up so okay. It was like sticking his head out a plane window. He wasn’t prepared for just _how_ fast Toothless really was. It felt like the wind was trying to peel his skin off his bones, tear his eyes from his skull. Being able to take a breath was a laughable thought. He was grateful he was strapped on or else he would have gone flying off Toothless’s back. They managed about thirty seconds of that speed before something in the rig snapped and Toothless jerked to the side and plummeted with a cry. Toothless managed to get his wings around Tony before hitting the water, or else Tony probably would have splatted at the speeds they were going at. Tony ended up treading water - not easy to do with his prosthetic -  while he tried to diagnose the problem.

It was pretty easy to see what had happened. The string connecting the pedal to the series of lines that led to the control rod had snapped, rendering the pedal useless. There was nothing Tony could do in the water, so they ended up making the humiliating swim to shore, where as always, people were gathered to take pictures and point.

Toothless wasn’t bothered though, smiling his signature gummy grin and bouncing around Tony gleefully, so joyful it was hard for Tony to feel upset about the failed flight.

The media had a field day of course, but Tony didn’t really care. He would only be in the US for the winter, then he was sure Stoick would contact him. The only thing that bothered him was what they called him.

They called him the dragon rider. _The_ dragon rider. As if he was the only one.

He tried not to dwell on it. He had too much to do.

He needed to condense the flight rig. The pedal stuck out to the side too much, and the exposed string would never survive fast flights. It was amazing it was never damaged before in fights.

He spent almost a month doing a complete overhaul of the flight rig. The end result was _awesome_.

Instead of thin strings running down Toothless’s back, he now had wide, flat pieces of leather that held everything together and was more likely to hold up to fast speeds. The pedal was gone. He hollowed out Toothless left shoulder stirrup, ran the lines connecting to the control rod through it. He ended up having to overhaul his foot for it as well, so it would fit the new rig.

He tried not to feel guilty. It was still very much a Viking foot, after all. It was simply a new model.

The new foot was slimmer, so it could fit into Toothless’s left shoulder stirrup and connect to the gears inside. It was simpler on the surface, just two pieces of metal at the base for him to stand on. But it had an automatic spring inside, so that when he pushed it into the shoulder stirrup, one of the two pieces of metal rotated, turning his foot into a hook that clicked into the stirrup. Then when he pulled his foot free, the second part of the foot rotated back into place. He also added a thin coating of rubber to the bottom, so that he would finally have traction on tile and linoleum.

The end result was that they were both sleeker and more efficient, with less exposed parts that could be damaged. So they tested the fin again. This time, they made it almost a minute before crashing. Nothing had broken this time. With these speeds, if Tony was just a millisecond off with angling the fin then they crashed. It would take practice.

He made himself a helmet out of Gronckle Iron - collected from the Gronckles at the Nest - so that he could actually _breath_ while they flew. It had a face plate he could flip up, and short spikes covering it. The eye slits were rectangles and the mouth slit turned down in an intimidating frown. He had managed to convince a Death Song to give him a chunk of amber, even if it ended up spat over his new prosthetic, ruining it. He used the Death Song amber to cover the eye and mouth slits, which turned everything a light orange but protected his face. He still needed to figure out some kind of body suit, but one thing at a time. For the moment, he wore leather armor in Viking style, covering his skin and doing a better job than regular clothes as protecting him from the wind.

They practiced daily, and slowly improved. Even with the helmet, it was hard to catch his breath while they flew. He had ideas for a way to condense oxygen in the helmet by drawing in outside air - which would also allow them to fly higher - but he didn’t have a power source powerful enough to do the job while still being small enough not to slow them down. So he stored his ideas in his private server just in case.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Spring came, and the letter from Stoick still didn’t arrive.

Dragons do well with having some kind of pointer when being directed, and Tony missed having a sword. So he made one from Gronckle Iron, a thin blade that was really just a thin piece of metal that made the shape of a sword, but didn’t have the middle. But the part that made it _his_ sword was that the blade retracted into a cylinder he could clip onto his calf while they flew. Then, because why should that be enough, he collected Nightmare Gel and filled small, spring-loaded canisters with it. Then, his awesome, retractable sword was a _flaming_ sword.

The media went nuts, and Tony didn’t care. Besides, the flames actually were useful, despite what the media thought. One, the dragons could see it in the dark and from far away, making it easier to direct them. Two, and most importantly, it made it much easier to train them. Dragons like being connected with, and having control over something that was on fire helped with that.

Besides, Toothless liked chasing the sparks that flew off it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Winter came. And Tony knew that Stoick’s letter wasn’t coming.

Tony destroyed his workshop. He took a hammer to his computers, threw his monitors into the forge. He turned his flaming sword on his drawings, his diagrams, everything paper he had. He used a sledgehammer to beat holes into the walls. He scattered dead coals from the forge over everything, did his best to rip it apart. He burned the mattress he kept in there. He threw his tools in the microwave.

Toothless watched everything from his bed, making no move to stop him. Only when Tony started to sob did Toothless walk over, wrestle the hammer from Tony’s grip. Tony cried harder than he’d ever cried before. Worse than he would after Howard would be done with him. Worse than when he’d accepted his parents’ deaths. Worse than when he’d come to the realization that he wasn’t getting off Berk.

Toothless just curled around him, nuzzling and licking. When Tony finally pulled himself together enough to manage a full breath, the first thing he did was shove to his feet and bolt upstairs to the locked trunk he kept under his bed. His hands shook so badly it took him four tried to get the lock open. Inside the trunk, he kept all the Berk things. His journal, the bloodied tailfin Toothless was wearing when they’d fled, the herbalist book Gothi had given him, one of Javis’s shirts, his water skin, and his helmet.

He grabbed the helmet, hopped on Toothless and took off. They flew until they found a cliff over the water Tony considered high enough. He landed Toothless and dismounted. He stood at the edge of the cliff, his knuckles white around the horn of the helmet. Breathing hard, he pulled his arm back to throw the helmet off the cliff.

He didn’t move.

He could hear the waves splashing against the cliff. Could hear birds singing. Toothless was quiet, probably still watching to see what Tony did.

For several long seconds, he didn’t move.

Then, with a ragged sob, he crumbled to the ground, pulling the helmet into his lap and curling around it, rocking and crying, his face pressed to the cold metal. Hot scales pressed against him, around him, as Toothless curled around Tony. Blindly, Tony twisted and reached for his dragon, shuddering with force of the grief. He buried his face against Toothless, trying to melt into him where it might not hurt so bad. Toothless was quiet, as he was when Tony was destroying his workshop. He just waited out the storm, letting Tony cry and offering his support and comfort with just his presence.

The pain wasn’t less by the time Tony stopped crying. Tony was just too exhausted to keep sobbing. He slept on the cliff, with snow blowing and his dragon keeping him warm. When morning came, Tony was stiff and sore, leg aching and head pounding. He and Toothless flew back to their house that wasn’t home.

That night, Tony went to his first college party.

The party was in some random kid’s house that Tony never bothered to learn the name of, and the music was loud enough that Toothless chose to wait on the roof. Tony drank enough to make everything fuzzy and followed a girl back to her dorm. She was blond, slim but not skinny, blue-eyed and pretty. She still wasn’t quite right, her body soft where it should be muscular, her hair just a shade too dark. She was soft-spoken and shy, not at all the tough confidence he wanted.   

He took her to bed, and she thankfully didn’t ask why he turned the lights out, why he kept his shirt on, why he pulled her hands away when she tried to run them up his back, why he whispered a name that wasn’t her's.

It wasn’t at all the first time he had expected, but that hurt was just one more small cut in his shredded soul.

When he finished, he shoved away from her, yanking his pants on and stalking to the bathroom. She didn’t move, watching with confused, hurt eyes as he slammed the bathroom door shut. He showered quickly, his stomach rolling unpleasantly. He decided to blame that on the alcohol.

He dressed in the bathroom and stalked out, still not meeting the girl’s eyes. Toothless was waiting in the dorm lounge where Tony had left him  - Tony and Toothless may be close as brothers, but that didn’t mean Tony wanted him watching Tony have sex with a girl just because she looked a little like Astrid - and the Night Fury followed Tony outside, where he mounted up and flew back to their house.

Tony spent that day putting his workshop back in order, and catching up on his homework. Because he knew that Stoick’s letter was never coming, that in a few short years Tony would be taking over Stark Industries and continuing Howard’s legacy.

He knew now that he’d spend his life in the South, as if the Vikings had never happened. But they had. They taught Tony how to _feel_ , and in a backwards kind of way, they gave him Toothless.

So he’d survive. Because as much as he didn’t want this Southern life, he still had Toothless. And as long as he had Toothless, he could still continue on. And to make Toothless comfortable in the South, Tony would need money, and power.

So he’d make damn sure he had plenty of both.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify a little, Tony's new setup for his foot and Toothless's gear is similar to Hiccup's from HTTYD 2. The helmet is like the helmet from HTTYD 2, but the eye and mouth slits are like Iron Man's, with orange Death Song amber. It also isn't powered (yet). It's not the final result. Just wanted you guys to have a clear visual! I also didn't make up the Foreverwing, or its telepathic connection to Hiccup (or Tony in this case). It's from the game, Rise of Berk. 
> 
> Please leave a comment, I live off them!


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, we hit 1,000 kudos. You're scaring me. Calm down. 
> 
> I also have some bad news. This is the last chapter until next year. 
> 
> Next chapter starts the Iron Man story line!
> 
> As always, thank you EchoMoonstone for betaing!

Tony threw his full focus on school and dragons. He didn’t let himself cry anymore, didn’t waste time wishing for things that were no longer possible. He was taking over SI when he turned twenty one, and he was currently eighteen. That gave him three years to learn as much as possible and get himself together enough to handle something that huge.

It was strange. He was less concerned about his responsibility as the head of the enormous company that was Stark Industries than he had been about leading the Dragon Academy. But honestly, part of him would be relieved if SI went under. If the media turned away from him, and he could just train dragons and not have to put up the front the Vikings had taught him he didn’t need.

But that wasn’t going to happen. So he worked his ass off, taking a ridiculous number of classes at once and studying like mad. It had been a long time since he’d considered his genius to be his most important quality, and he still didn’t consider it _most_ important, but he was being reminded how useful it was. Because while he had to study and do homework, he didn’t have to waste as much time on his homework as a lot of his classmates did. So he still had time for the dragons, and on weekends, he partied.

Partying was complicated. Toothless liked to fly at dawn and at dusk, and Tony would be damned if he did anything to lower the quality of Toothless’s life more than he already had. So he went to parties immediately after their evening flight, got wasted, and in the morning Toothless would poke Tony awake with his nose and Tony would stagger out of bed, sometimes still a little drunk, and go flying.

He felt guilty for how he’d treated that girl he’d slept with, whose name he still didn’t know. The next person he brought to bed was a senior, a guy with dark hair and eyes, tall with a broad frame. He looked as far from Astrid as Tony could manage.

The media freaked out, and Tony tried his best not to freak out with them. Because they didn’t _matter_. Howard wasn’t going to read about Tony’s roll in the hay with a man and come for his throat. And it wasn’t like Vikings cared who someone slept with. Hell, Mildew fucked his sheep and everyone just turned a blind eye. The first time Tony had walked in on Gobber playing tonsil - hockey with whatever man had caught his eye that week had had Tony flushing bright red and bolting from the shop. Which had led to the most awkward conversation with Stoick he’d ever had.

Sleeping with the senior caused a stir big enough to warrant a personal visit from Obie, the first since Tony moved into his house. Tony didn’t really care what scolding Obie was going to give him. Toothless clearly agreed, since he was already snarling and they weren’t even in the house yet. Tony didn’t really listen while Obie talked, working on a compressed, spring-loaded canister for Zippleback gas he could put in the other side of his sword hilt. Obie’s words, words like, _the media,_ and _have to be more careful Tony_ , and _your father wouldn’t want,_ and _I’m not judging but_ , washed over his head. He didn’t care what the media said about who he slept with. They were just Southerners. Besides, the more they focused on him, the less they focused on Toothless or the Vikings.

He never slept with the same person twice, male or female. It was always in the dark, fast enough that they didn’t question why Tony didn’t take off his shirt. It wasn’t just for distraction; he was just so used to being touched. Vikings touch each other constantly, just a casual pat on the back or a clap on the shoulder. Suddenly, all the physical touch was gone. Southerners, especially Americans, don’t touch strangers, or even friends. Only romantic partners or close family usually touch a lot, and Tony didn’t have that. Even if he did, he had his scars that the world couldn’t know about. His back was a mess of raised, ropey lines that disgusted him to look at, and the white, too-smooth skin of the Mark on his shoulder shamed him even knowing Southerners didn’t understand what it meant.

Typically, he wasn’t really bothered by his scars. He had a bunch of little ones, from working in the forge, nicking himself on blades he was working on, the one on his palm from when he killed the Outcast, and other miscellaneous accidents. His leg was a mess of scarring, but he didn’t care. After all, Vikings either didn’t care about scars or they liked the proof of their battles. But there was no cool, badass story about the Mark and the whip scars. They were physical proof that not even Vikings that he still considered family could care about him forever.

The only ones who touched him were Toothless and Jarvis. And Jarvis still lived in New York, although Tony visited when he could. And Obie tried, but Toothless still hated him and refused to let him touch Tony, or even get close enough to try. So Tony had sex. A lot of it. The media ate it up, and couldn’t seem to decide if they loved him or hated him. Tony didn’t really care, as long as their support for Toothless didn’t waver.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jim Rhodes didn’t party too often. But he’d finished an exam he’d been stressing about for a few weeks, and thought he deserved the break. The party was appropriately loud, and everyone had the famed red solo cups full of “soup” - which was a giant bowl filled with whatever alcohol the guests brought and dumped in. It wasn’t very safe, since you couldn’t know what the alcohol content was, so Jim only had one cup. It was enough to give him a pleasant buzz, but not make him drunk.

He had fun, danced with a pretty girl, although he struck out when she ended up leaving early with friends. He chatted with his friends, and had a good time.

The party was winding down when he found the Stark kid - everyone knew of him, and his dragon - on the floor, drooling against the side of the couch he was leaning on.

Usually, Jim wouldn’t get involved. The kid just reeked of trouble - and booze - and Jim didn’t need it. But no one else seemed interested in helping him, and from what Jim could tell, the kid didn’t come with anyone. So Jim hauled the kid up, who was conscious but barely, and half - carried him to his car.

Tony Stark wasn’t really a kid, and he didn’t know why he thought of him as one. He was close to the same age as the other kids in his class, thanks to his time with the Vikings that kind of forced him to take a few gap years. But he was so young when he’d finished high school, and was several years younger than Jim. Especially since Jim had taken two years off himself to spend time with his mother as she went through the final stages of cancer.   

Everyone knew where Tony Stark lived, and Jim had no trouble finding the house. As he pulled up, he was pleased to see the light was on at the front porch. That would make it a little easier to get the kid inside. Jim dragged the kid out of the car, careful not to hit Stark’s head against the roof. Stark was mumbling against his shoulder and making some pathetic attempts to move his feet along. Jim was pretty sure he wasn’t really awake anymore.

The front door was unlocked, making Jim tisk in disapproval. For someone like Stark, who’d spent so much of his life in the public eye, Jim would have expected him to be smart enough to keep his house locked up tight.

Then he felt like an idiot when he rounded the corner and came face-to-face with a very irritated Night Fury. Which explained why Stark didn’t bother locking his door.

He froze, and the dragon’s lips curled back in a toothy grimace, a harsh, bubbling hiss leaking between the Night Fury’s teeth.

Stark was out for the count. He wasn’t going to be helpful.

The dragon - Toothless, Jim was pretty sure that was his name - unfurled his wings wider and opened his mouth, a snarl ripping out of his chest. His gleaming green eyes were locked on Jim, with the intensity of a hunter on the prowl. Suddenly, Jim realized how this must look to a dragon that was infamously protective of his rider.

So he took a chance.

“Hey,” he said, keeping his tone as casual as he could manage. “Toothless, right?” The dragon didn’t respond. Jim wasn’t sure why he expected him too. That gaze was just so damn _intelligent_ . “He had a bit too much to drink, so I figured I’d give him a lift back here. Is there somewhere I can put him?” For a few long seconds, the only sounds in the house was the building creaking around them and the trees rustling outside. Then Toothless made a low, huffing sound and suddenly whipped around, trotting down the hall. After a few steps, he stopped and looked back at Jim as if asking _well? You coming or not?_ Jim let out a soft laugh and followed along, dragging Stark with him. He was glad the dragon was apparently helping him now, because although Stark wasn’t a big guy, he was sure getting heavy.

The dragon led the way to a bedroom, which had dirty dishes, old clothes, pieces of metal and what looked like some kind of circuitry scattered around. There was a large slab of rock in the corner that had black soot all over it. There was a fin like the one the dragon was currently wearing on the floor by the bed. Jim hauled the kid to the unmade bed, dumped him on it. Under Toothless’s watchful eye, Jim dragged the kid’s belt off, followed by his one shoe. He hesitated over Stark’s prosthetic, then decided it wasn’t his place to mess with that and left it where it was. He grabbed the kid’s shirt, pulled it up with the intention of pulling it over Stark’s head and tucking him into the bed.

The sight of the white scar on Stark’s shoulder had him freezing.

It was clearly purposeful. Some kind of symbol, although Jim had no idea what. There were white, rough lines on Stark’s shoulders, leading over his back. Jim pulled him up a little, and the sight of Stark’s back knocked the breath out of him.

A low, rumbling growl had his eyes snapping up, and he saw Toothless standing a couple feet away, glowering at him. Seems like their little moment in the hallway was over.

Jim quickly got Stark’s shirt tugged back down, guilt stirring. He had no idea how Stark would get marks like that. He was so damn protective of the Vikings, and he’d never mentioned anything that would lead to scars like that during his interviews.

He tucked the kid under the blankets, put a sealed water bottle and a bottle of painkillers on the nightstand, after pushing some papers aside to make space. He walked, Toothless on his heels, to the front door. He let himself out, and didn’t even have time to close it before it crashed shut behind him. Through the window he saw Toothless trotting back towards Stark’s room. Jim shook his head with a smile and climbed into his car to head back to his apartment.    

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony groaned, head splitting.

Toothless’s nose poked Tony’s rib again, huffing impatiently. Tony groaned again. His mouth tasted like a mouse had crawled in there and died. But the lure of flying, combined with his refusal to let Toothless down, had him blindly swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Only to stop, wincing in pain and grabbing at his bad leg.

His prosthetic was still on. He stared at it blankly, and realized he was still in his party clothes. Suddenly, he remembered passing out at the party. The punch bowl must have had a higher alcohol content than he had thought.

He stood up, grimacing at the burn from wearing the metal foot for too long, and limped heavily over to the door. Toothless stepped up to Tony’s side, and Tony wrapped an arm around him gratefully, letting him take some of his weight. He peeked out the front door. His truck wasn’t there, so it must still be at the party. Meaning he either walked back, Toothless came and got him, or someone brought him.

Tony hobbled back to his room, investigating. There was water and Aspirin on his nightstand. His belt and shoe was on the floor by his bed. Looks like someone had brought him back. That was a nerve-racking thought, but Toothless didn’t seem worried, and Tony couldn’t see anything misplaced or missing. Tony sighed, shaking his head. Didn’t matter. Toothless was fine and his locked box of Berk things was still under the bed. Everything else was replaceable. The water bottle was still sealed, so he took two painkillers and drank the whole bottle. Then he put on his leather flight armor, resecured his metal foot onto his aching stump, and walked out.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The impact to the ground was jarring. Even wrapped in the safety of Toothless’s wings, stars flashed in the darkness of Tony’s eyes, squeezed shut in preparation for the impact. He could feel blood running down the side of his head from where he’d hit it on Toothless’s metal shoulder stirrup. Toothless cried out as they skidded across the ground, slid to a stop. His wings loosened their tight grip, and Tony clumsily crawled out of Toothless’s embrace, over to his head to check on him. Toothless was already groaning, shaking his head and rolling over to stand up. Tony sighed in relief, then laughed a little.

“Looks like we need some more practice, huh bud? Back to the water?”

Toothless grunted, shaking out his wings and stretching. Tony was relieved to see that Toothless didn’t look too painful or stiff from their hard landing in a parking lot. People were pointing, but Tony and Toothless were both content to ignore them. Tony sighed a little at the smashed pavement that was the result of a thousand pounds of dragon plummeting from the sky.

Tony made arrangements to have the entire parking lot repaved, then flew Toothless - at a slower pace - to MIT. Toothless napped on the roof while Tony was in class. When he got out of his lecture, Tony called Toothless down and they started off towards the open parking lot, where Tony would mount up and take off for their house. Then he’d do his homework, take Toothless out for his evening flight and watch the sun go down. After that he’d work on his projects until he fell asleep on the couch he put down there after his tantrum. That was their usual routine.  

This time, Toothless suddenly let out a loud, happy bark and tore away from Tony’s side. Tony stared after him, mouth hanging open, as Toothless bounded after a student. The guy Toothless was currently bouncing around, grinning gummily, was a tall black kid with a leanly muscular build that was laughing and patting Toothless as if they were lifelong friends. Tony hadn’t seen Toothless react that openly towards _anyone_ since they’d arrived in the South. Even Jarvis, although he and Toothless got along great now, used to be growled and snapped at. Tony slowly walked over to them, unable to help but feel suspicious as Toothless accepted chin scratches.

The kid looked up with a grin, without stopping petting Toothless. “Hey! Tony, right?”

Tony tipped his head, eyeing him. “Know anyone else with a Night Fury?”

The kid snorted, oddly cheerful. Of course, Toothless tended to have the effect on people - when he was in a good mood. “Smart ass. I’m Jim. James Rhodes if you want to be official. I drove you home last night.”

It made Tony nervous to know he had been so out of it that a total stranger could drive him home and tuck him into bed and have no memory of it.

“Guess you and Toothless buddied up while I was out huh? What, did you watch the game together or something?” There was no reason for Tony to be so bitter. But it was _weird_. He hadn’t seen Toothless like this towards anyone in the South.

Rhodes snorted. “Yeah, right. I thought he was going to kill me for a minute there. And he chased me out the second I set you down.”

That sounded more like the Toothless he was used to here in the South. But it was interesting. Maybe it was because Rhodes helped him when Toothless couldn’t. Or maybe Toothless just liked him.

He and Rhodes ended up talking for a long time. He was nice. Tony could see what Toothless saw in him. Rhodes asked Tony if he wanted to study that night. Although Tony wanted to work on his sword some more, he agreed to go to Rhodes’s after his evening flight.

He tried to sleep with Rhodes, but it became apparent pretty fast that Rhodes was straight as an arrow. Which was disappointing, as well as puzzling. Rhodes also bought them a pizza, and wouldn’t hear of letting Tony pay. So he didn’t want sex, or money - unless he was playing the long game. Toothless adored him in a way Tony hadn’t seen him behave with any Southerners. While they went over their notes and munched on pizza, Toothless alternated between trying to swipe Tony’s slice of pizza and playing with Rhodes.

Over the next months, Rhodes became Tony’s first Southern friend. Tony became Tones and Rhodes became Rhodey. They spent long nights studying and drinking, hung out at Tony’s house on the weekends. Rhodes enjoyed watching Tony work with dragons and was interested in the things Tony created. Although Tony still slept around and partied, Rhodey was a non-sexual outlet for Tony’s touch starvation. He never minded Tony leaning against him while they watched movies, or putting his feet in Rhodey’s lap while they studied, or throwing his arm around his shoulders while they walked to class.

It was … nice. Having a human friend again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony created his first robot after finals, while he was exhausted and drunk. He decided to blame that instead of his rusty programming skills for why the bot was a bit … special.

When the bot - program named DUM-E - whirled to life with a quizzical hum, Tony didn’t even have time to whoop in excitement before Toothless lunged to his feet with a snarl, fire boiling in his maw.

Tony had forgotten that this was all new to Toothless. It took him getting between the bot and the Night Fury and coaxing Toothless closer, one hand on the cowering bot’s arm and the other extended to his dragon before Toothless let the fire die in his mouth. Tony was grateful when Toothless gave the bot a suspicious sniff and edged a little closer. Tony spent a few hours teaching the bot - and it could _learn_ , his strange, broken piece of code could _learn_ \- and encouraging Toothless to help him show DUM-E items around the shop. Toothless was still a little leery of the machine that did things without humans making it do them, but within a few hours Toothless had warmed to the little robot and was happily bringing DUM-E things like a wrench, one of Tony’s sketched-out diagrams, a hammer, and when he regurgitated a fish for the bot Tony knew that DUM-E was officially in the family. Although Toothless was pretty insulted when DUM-E didn’t eat it, no matter how much Tony told him that the bot couldn’t eat.      

It hurt knowing that the Vikings he loved would hate his little curious bot, simply because it _\- he -_ was Southern technology.

He tried not to think about it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony turned nineteen.

He wanted a way to glide along next to Toothless while they flew. Not _fly_ , because he and Toothless only flew _together_ , but both of them gliding. He experimented with different ways to do it, but ultimately simple was better. He used simple leather wings that he could roll and tie to his pant legs, making it easy to pull them in flight. He created a dorsal fin that popped up when he pressed a button on his chest, and it stabilized him. Neither it, nor his wings could withstand the wind at Toothless’s full speed, but even Tony didn’t feel comfortable trying to glide at that speed. At least, not without some way to have a little bit of control.

It was exciting to glide alongside Toothless. His new backfins made it easy for him to catch up to Tony and catch him, but if they were gliding in the city or somewhere crowded they still crashed sometimes. Rhodey was both excited and alarmed by it, but that was how he felt about most of the things Tony did.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony was in class when Jarvis died.

It was a stroke. He was already gone by the time Tony and Toothless bolted into the hospital.

After the funeral, Tony went straight to the nest and stayed there for a week, not caring about his classes. First the Vikings, now Jarvis. It seemed Tony was just not allowed to have anyone care about him for long.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As much as he wanted to, Tony couldn’t stay at the nest and hide with his grief forever. When he got back and turned on his phone, he had a couple missed calls from Obie and too many to easily count from Rhodey.

Getting back to his lonely routine was slow and painful, like trying to move when your body was stiff with cold. Rhodey helped, although Tony was afraid to depend on him too much because he was sure he would leave too. But Toothless would never leave.

That, he was sure of.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

He needed a way to catch himself when he was gliding. If they were gliding in town, sometimes he tried to catch himself on a roof or something, but his fingers could never find purchase and he’d end up tumbling down. Toothless could hit the wall the same way Tony would, dig his claws in and pull himself up whereas Tony would fall.

Tony studied his claws closely, and collected some Gronckle Iron from the Nest.

His claws were like Toothless’s, but a little shorter and slightly more narrow, so that they were proportional to Tony. He made them about an inch and a half long, curved and razor sharp. They were perfect for what he wanted. But they were long enough to get in the way, so he made them retractable and added a button to the side of his hand he could hit with with his thumb that allowed him to unsheathe them. The curve of the retracted claws fit nicely against the tips of his fingers.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When Tony was twenty, he started a project, file name JARVIS.

It took months. It had to be perfect. _He_ had to be perfect.

Like with DUM-E, it took time for Toothless to adjust to the voice in the ceiling. But Tony knew his dragon trusted him, and that trust meant he would give the AI a chance.

JARVIS was like a child as he learned the world. His voice was achly familiar. He wasn’t Jarvis, and the more the AI developed the more clear that became. Rhodey was worried that Tony was trying to replace human interaction with bots, and considering that Rhodey was the only human Tony saw on a regular basis that concern might be well-founded. But Tony didn’t care. He had Toothless, he got to work with wild dragons often, he had Rhodey, and he had his little bot children.

It wasn’t the same. Tony had experienced the real thing, real family, real friends. But they were gone. All he had left of that was Toothless, and now Rhodey. So he turned his efforts to helping JARVIS and DUM-E learn and blossom. And he loved them. Not as much as Toothless, no one as much as Toothless, but it was nice to have something other than dragons that he knew would love him without question, that he knew would never leave him. Because he still wasn’t sure Rhodey wouldn’t end up ditching him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony graduated summa cum laude when he was twenty one, with two Master degrees in Mechanical and Electrical Engineering. He immediately took over SI. Rhodey, who had graduated a year earlier had joined the Air Force, and it only took a little finagling to make him the liaison between Stark Industries and the military. At least that made it less likely that he would just forget about Tony.

Tony still missed the sound of the water. So he searched until he found a piece of land on a sheer cliff, where the sound of waves was deafening. It was perfect.

He bought it, and planned out the house himself. It would be big, even bigger than the old Stark Mansion, and lots of windows. It would have pine wood floors, like his and Stoick’s house had, although these were polished. It had a fireplace in his room. It had a forge in the basement. It was a cross between the expensive mansion everyone expected of him and the past he still hung on to with his fingernails.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *  

Tony wasn’t sure how to run SI. He tried to find a balance between Howard and Stoick. Howard’s business sense, Stoick’s morals. He tried desperately to be the genius everyone expected him to be, and the Chief he expected of himself.

When he finally caved to Obie’s urging to hire a personal assistant,  the line of applicants went out the door. Tony didn’t like hiring people. He hired people to hire people. But Obie was adamant that Tony did it personally. He had started out with Toothless next to him, to see their reactions to him, but three interviews in and the dragon was napping in the corner and nothing could convince to him to pay attention. Within an hour, Tony was so desperately bored he was almost ready to train a dragon to just be his assistant.

Virginia Potts was nothing special on paper. Her credentials were perfect, but all of them were. Otherwise they wouldn’t have even gotten in front of him for an interview. She was tall but skinny, which was a trait he still didn’t like about Southerners. And she jumped a little when she saw Toothless in the corner, which didn’t help her.

Tony flicked his fingers at her, already knowing she wasn’t the one. “Get me a coffee,” he said, voice short. “Cream, no sugar.”

Potts froze, and if Tony was looking he might have seen the flash of fire in her eyes. And Tony Stark _always_ respected fire.

She dropped her resume on the desk and whirled without a word, stalking back out. Tony groaned and stretched, his back popping. The sound had Toothless blinking sleepy, crooning a content little sound. Tony walked a couple of laps around the spacious office, and when he heard heels clicking towards him he dropped back into his seat with a sigh. To his surprise, Potts came back, coffee in hand. She set it down in front of him.

Tony never liked people without a spine, and her silent acceptance of his rudeness reassured him that she _definitely_ wasn’t the right fit for the job. He hesitated a little when Toothless’s head popped up, nostrils flaring and eyes on the cup. But if it was poisoned he would have already been over the desk, knocked the cup out of Tony’s hand and killed Potts. So Tony shrugged and took a gulp.  

It took a second for it to hit, but when it did Tony lurched forward and started coughing desperately, eyes watering and mouth burning. Because the little viper had put _pepper flakes_ into his damn coffee. And although Tony was mostly over his sensitivity to heavily - flavored foods, he still didn’t care for extremely strong flavors. Especially not in his _coffee_. He glared at Toothless, annoyed the dragon didn’t give him a better warning. Toothless grinned at him, pleased as punch.

“Will that be all, Mr. Stark?” Potts asked, her voice cool as a summer breeze.

Tony hired her on the spot.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hiring Happy Hogan was even more spontaneous than Potts, now affectionately nicknamed Pepper. Tony had been at the beach with Toothless investigation reports of Sharkworms. The tidal class dragons did prefer warmer waters, but it was seeming more and more likely that someone might have seen the shadow of hammerhead shark and panicked. The sound of Toothless’s fire had his head whipping up, hand instantly going to his sword on his leg and his body tensing for a fight. But there wasn’t a fight. Instead, there was a man tossing sticks into the air, laughing as Toothless blasted them into an impressive burst of ash.

Between his skills and Toothless’s power, he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

He hired the man as his personal bodyguard anyway.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Years passed. Tony got older. SI grew wildly under his command. Rhodey didn’t abandon him like he thought he would after college. Happy and Pepper became more than just employees, but friends. He and Toothless remained glued at the hip. He continued to visit the nest, work with wild dragons. He managed to find a small, unhealthy patch of Dragon Nip in northern Canada and immediately sent a team to collect it and get a greenhouse going in a cold enough temperature to have it grow properly. And having one of his basic dragon training tools back felt good, reassuring.

When the planes hit the Twin Towers, Tony was there within two hours, perched on Toothless’s shoulders. He knew Obie would be mad he had run out when the company was being bombarded with demands for weapons, but he knew where he could save lives.

Not including the deaths he’d seen on Berk, it was the worse thing he’d ever witnessed. He and Toothless couldn’t catch everyone jumping. And even though he could hear people screaming inside, knew Toothless could as well, he wouldn’t bring Toothless in there. Because even if he was safe from the heat, his scales wouldn’t save him from a collapsed building, or suffocation from the dust. He knew the screams of the trapped people would give him nightmares, but he couldn’t put Toothless in harm's way. He _couldn’t._

When it was over, when Toothless had sniffed out every trapped person he could and Tony had forked over enough money to have his phone blowing up from calls from Pepper and Obie, he finally returned to his company.

Stark Industries grew like never before. War was always good for the weapons industry.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony got older, and his grief from Berk never faded. It _wasn’t fair_. He’d spent _three years_ there, but thoughts of the tribe that rejected him, of the father figure that turned on him, never faded, never became less painful. No one knew. Not even Pepper. Rhodey knew there was more to the story than Tony told him, but he stopped pushing after a nasty fight that came close to ending their friendship. And that was another thing. Tony was still _angry_. Desperately, wildly _furious_. But he couldn’t help but defend them.

And he hated that he couldn’t turn on them like they turned on him.

The rage was a part of him. As familiar as his grief.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you EchoMoonstone for beta-ing!

Tony had done dozens of weapon demonstrations. This one shouldn’t have gone the way it did.

Tony had been working on an engine for a car he’d probably never drive. He rarely drove anywhere, usually flying Toothless. If it was far enough away that flying Toothless became ineffective, they took a plane. But he liked working on the cars, and Happy and Rhodey both liked to drool over them.

He’d been blasting music - through headphones, in respect to Toothless’s delicate hearing - when Pepper yanked out his earbuds to tear into him because he was late. He was always late. He didn’t care. His weapons were the best of the best. If they wanted them - and they did - they’d damn well wait. But he let Pepper hurry him out of his shop, and Happy raced Tony and Toothless to the airport. Tony and Toothless followed the roads, just to make it a little fair, and still won with ease. Rhodey gave him his usual scolding, then elected to ignore him in favor of reuniting with Toothless.

When they got there, Tony left Toothless on the plane, as usual. He didn’t like leaving Toothless alone, but the loud explosions bothered Toothless’s hearing. At least, that’s what he told the public. In reality, Tony didn’t want the generals laying their greedy eyes on Toothless. He already knew they wanted a dragon-flying unit. He and Obie had had a huge, blowout fight over it. Obie insisted it would change the tide of the war, that it would save lives, not to mention rake in millions, possibly billions of dollars. They could ask virtually any price for a trained dragon and the military would pay. Tony knew they would, Obie knew they would, the board knew they would. But the dragons weren’t weapons. Obie couldn’t see why Tony was okay with the Vikings fighting with dragons, but why he wasn’t going to allow Southerners to do the same. But he didn’t understand. The Vikings didn’t see the dragons as weapons. The dragons were part of the tribe, family. And the dragons weren’t forced to fight. Tony knew that with Southerners, the dragons would be caged, bound in chains until they were expected to fight. They would never feel the bond that should exist between a dragon and its rider. And that was why Tony would _never_ teach a Southerner how to train dragons.

So Tony did the weapons demonstration and hitched a ride back to the plane, impatient to get back to Toothless.

He never arrived.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jim had always felt responsible for Tony. Tony pretended otherwise, but Jim knew he had trouble letting people in close. He also knew why. Or at least part of the reason.

So when Tony was taken, right out from under his nose, Jim couldn’t help but feel like he was responsible. And he was forced to return to Tony’s plane, alone.

Toothless immediately perked up, ear plates standing up and nose twitching as he looked for Tony. Once Toothless realized Tony wasn’t with him, he looked at Jim, head cocked.

“I’m sorry,” Jim whispered, gut twisting. “They took him. I couldn’t stop them. I’m sorry.”

Toothless stared at him, then snarled. Jim couldn’t help but take a small step back. He wasn’t afraid of Toothless. But he thought that anyone, other than Tony, would be afraid of being faced with the anger of a Night Fury. Tony didn’t always seem to remember that Toothless was _dangerous._

Toothless took off at a gallop towards the endless sand, away from the base. Horror ripped into Jim, because he’d already let Tony slip through his fingers, and if - _when_ \- he found Tony, his best friend would never forgive Jim if he let Toothless get hurt.

“Toothless, wait!” Jim called, stumbling through the sand after the dragon. Toothless stopped and whipped around, firing a blast at Jim that hit about six feet in front of him and sending sand hurtling into the air. Jim’s feet slid out from under him and he tumbled down, instinctively covering his face with his arms while his heart tried to climb out his throat. He peeked out to find Toothless glowering at him, teeth bared and wings spread out threateningly. _This is your fault,_ the dragon was telling him. _I trusted you with him, and you let him get hurt._ Jim stared at him, heart pounding, a sense of helplessness he hadn’t felt since he’d sat at his dying mother’s bedside consuming him, as Toothless turned and galloped off into the desert, his red and gold tailfin the last Jim saw of him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The first thing Tony knew was pain.

The next thing was his own screaming.

Then came the smell of blood.

The whirl of a saw.

Shouting.

Unfamiliar faces.

A rag pressed to his face.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When Tony woke, it was to a deep, horrifyingly familiar pain. The kind of pain that encompassed the whole body. The kind of pain that meant a wound severe enough that _bone_ was gone.

His hand went to his chest, where he found it covered in bandages. After ripping them off, his first terrifying thought was _oh my god, they put a_ _bomb_ in _me_. His hands followed the wires leading from his chest to a box next to the cot he was on and he pulled weakly on them, his only thought being to defuse the bomb.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a male voice said, sounding unconcerned. For the first time, Tony noticed the man shaving in a dirty mirror a few feet away.

"Toothless,” he croaked, his throat dry and sticky. One more source of pain among the rest. “Did you take Toothless?”

The man paused and turned, studying Tony. For the first time, a hint of sympathy was shown in the man’s eyes.

“No,” he finally said. “As far as I know, they only took you.”

Tony closed his eyes, relief making his head spin. Suddenly, the thing on his chest didn’t feel quite as heavy. “They?” he wheezed. He had assumed the man was his captor.

The man set his razor down and walked over to a pitcher of water next to Tony’s bed. He poured a cup, pressed it to Tony’s hand. Tony drank messily, grateful. The water was dirty and tasted awful, but ever since the raft Tony had never taken fresh water for granted. He tried to take a deep breath, but something caught low in his chest, forcing him to cough. The coughs were agonizing, making him to curl in on himself and clutch at his chest which just made the pain worse. A hand landed on his shoulder.

“Slow breaths,” the man said, voice low and calming. “You can’t breathe as deeply with the magnet in place. Unfortunately you have a rather thin build, so the magnet sits deeper than I’d like. But it is better than the alternative.”

Tony finally managed a breath that didn’t get stuck somewhere in his chest. Once again, being skinny has come around to bite him in the ass. He knew he wasn’t _skinny_ so to say. He was built to ride a dragon, and he would slow Toothless down too much if he were some beefcake.

Wait, _magnet_?

“I think,” he said in a breathless voice, “that you should tell me where we are and what’s wrong with me.”  

Turned out, the man’s name was Ho Yinson, and he was a captive as well. Tony had shrapnel in his chest, and a magnet hooked to a car battery slowing that shrapnel down.

It was the news that he only had a week to live that turned his world upside down. “ _No,”_ he said. “I can’t die. I _can’t_. Toothless would be alone. He came here for me. For _me_. I can’t leave him.”

Yinson sighed. “There is nothing else I can do, Stark. It amazing you are even alive now. I did not think you would make it through surgery.”

Tony shuddered at the memory. He was lucky enough not to remember much from losing his leg, but he knew the memory of them sawing into his chest would never leave him. He gingerly pressed his fingers to the magnet. A deep pain spread from the surface of his skin through the mangled bones.

Another set of scars to add to the collection. Tony was thinking that by the time his body was dumped at a military base or something like it that he’d have no unmarked skin left.

“I’m not training dragons for them,” Tony muttered.

Yinson stared at him. “They do not want _dragons_ from you Stark. They want so much more.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony thought he’d be better prepared for meeting his captives. After all, he’d been kidnapped by Alvin and Dagur plenty of times. The difference was, Alvin and Dagur were Vikings. They were upfront and honest about their intentions.

Another difference between his Viking captors and these ones. Alvin and Dagur never tortured him.

Later, shivering, lungs and throat burning from inhaling the water, Tony sat on the ground wrapped in a lice-infested blanket. Staring at nothing. Trying to remind himself that at least this time it wasn’t someone he loved torturing him.

Seeing his weapons, the things _he created_ , piled up around the outside of the cave was sickening. He had trusted that no one in his company would betray him, betray the whole _country_ , commit federal treason. He was running his company like a Chief, trusting his tribe. And once again, Southerners showed him why they couldn’t be trusted.   

Worse, he had an idea. An idea for a way to stay alive. Or at least, ensure that they sharpel in his chest didn’t kill him. And if the created it, created this amazing thing, there was a fair to good chance these people - the Ten Rings, Yinson called them - would take it. Then he would only be giving them another thing to use to hurt innocent people.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Toothless was terrified. And furious. Once again, Hiccup had been snatched out from under his nose, gone before Toothless even knew to pounce. He had trusted the not-Viking that liked Hiccup, that gave them almost a sense of flock, would keep him safe. But Toothless should have known better than to believe that humans could, would, protect his little Viking. Because they never did. Never.

So Toothless had to find him. Hiccup needed him, so Toothless would find him. That’s all there was to it.

But this land was terrible. Toothless didn’t know how Hiccup could survive in it. Toothless was worried _he_ wouldn’t be able to. There were few plants, even less animals to hunt. And the animals that were there were small and didn’t have much meat on them. There were the snakes that had tails that hissed as well as their heads, and every hatchling knew better than to eat those. But there was _nothing else to eat_ , and Toothless needed his energy to find Hiccup. So he pounced and killed them before they knew he was there and could find a vulnerable spot in his scales to bite him and make him sick. He had to dig deep into the dry ground to find water, and when he did it was dirty and not meant for drinking. But Toothless remembered how it was when he was a hatchling, how it was to eat whatever he could and be grateful there was something pickier than him that had left it.

There were humans around. Sometimes Toothless found a nest, but these nests smelled of blood and terror and not-Hiccup so he avoided them. Sometimes he heard the giant flying thing that shouldn’t be able to fly but could and knew the not-Vikings were looking for him and Hiccup. He also knew they thought they could find Hiccup better than Toothless, and would try to stop him from looking. But they knew _nothing_ , so he avoid the sounds of the thing that should not fly but did.

He didn’t know how long he had been in the awful place. His saddle and false-fin were rotting, and the metal around his shoulders rubbed agonizingly deep, pushing the scales aside and digging into his flesh underneath. He’d never worn it this long without Hiccup there to take it off and scratch the places he couldn’t reach with it on and rub mammal fat into the skins until it was soft again. But even though it was painful, Toothless didn’t tear it off. Because he would find Hiccup, and he would need to be able to fly Hiccup away from this place. Back to somewhere where the sun didn’t hurt Toothless’s eyes and there weren’t snakes with hissing tails and there was water and fish and other dragons.

Toothless only realized how bad it was when he realized his bones were beginning to look like his sire’s had before he died. And it was scary, but Toothless _had to find Hiccup_. His little Viking would be scared and pretending not to be and Toothless had to find him and protect him because that was what he was meant for.   

So no matter how tired he was, no matter how hungry and thirsty and weak, no matter how much his wings trembled with the effort of holding them up and his legs tried to fall out from under him, Toothless trudged on.

And one day, when he heard the sound of explosions and fire and screams, Toothless gathered his strength and ran towards it. Because where there was chaos, there was Hiccup. His little Viking was too foolishly brave to stay cowed and hidden forever.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony was terrified that these people might get their hands on the Miniaturized Arc Reactor, but he’d have to take that chance. Because he couldn’t leave his weapons in the hands of the Ten Rings without at least _trying_ to get them back. And more importantly, he couldn’t leave Toothless alone.

Yinson was a good helper. He was different from Gobber of course. He didn’t talk as much, he was more serious, and naturally he understood the scientific side of what they were doing. Still, having a human working with him brought back pleasant memories.

Which were shattered everytime their captors burst in.

The Miniaturized Arc Reactor was beautiful. Tony was laid out on a table, trying desperately not to squirm. It was the first time since Javis he had let someone see his scars. But it wasn’t like he had a choice. And Yinson definitely saw them when he first put the magnet in.    

That didn’t stop him from snatching his shirt and yanking it on the second the Reactor clicked into place. Then he pulled his collar out so he could peek. The blue light shone against the faded and stained shirt. It was beautiful.

He looked up, and saw Yinson open his mouth like he was going to say something. This he snapped it shut and shook his head.

They dealt with the questions from their captors, and went to bed.

That night, curled up on their cots, under the cover of dark, Tony whispered, “My tribe branded me a traitor. Whipped me bloody.”

Yinson didn’t say anything, but Tony heard his breathing change and knew he had heard.

Tony swallowed hard, an audible clicking noise in the dark. “It was completely out of nowhere. Southerners came. Americans. Killed dozens. My tribe blamed me. Thought I told them to do it. It didn’t matter that I risked my life to save Berk. That I lost of foot protecting the tribe.”

Tony wasn’t sure why he was saying this to Yinson. It wasn’t like he’d known him long. But he was his fellow captive. And even though he was technically a Southerner, he was hardly spoiled. And he’d already seen the scars. Tony couldn’t imagine what Yinson thought of them.

Finally, Yinson murmured, “I’ve seen torture many times in my life. Seen my friends, neighbors dragged off. Shot, drowned, beaten, whipped. And more. We feared everytime we saw the trucks coming. For us, it is never a surprise. But I know. I know that fear well, Stark.”

Tony exhaled and squeezed his eyes shut as tears leaked down his cheeks. “You know,” he murmured, smile tugging even as he struggled to keep from sobbing, “my friends call me Hiccup.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They never brought the subject up again. And Yinson didn’t call him Hiccup - which Tony was thankful for. Despite his words the night before, he wasn’t sure he could handle ever hearing that name again - although he did start calling him Tony. Which was at least a step up from Stark.

Before, Tony’s only thought was to get himself out and back to Toothless. Now, he knew he had to take Yinson with him. He wanted him to meet his dragon. He thought Toothless and Yinson would get along well. So he started planning. The Arc Reactor was powerful. Ironically, this whole nightmare gave him the small power source he’d longing for for years. But for now, it wasn’t going to be used for dragon training.

The suit was amazing. With the materials he had and having to keep it secret, he felt like he was back on Berk creating things in his room with poor materials and not testing them then just shooting them at dragons. Honestly, it was amazing he’d never seriously hurt anyone but Toothless with that reckless habit. But the suit would _work_. He knew it would.

It took months. And when they finally were ready, they didn’t hesitate.

Yinson sacrificed himself. With all his talk of his family, Tony had never _dreamed_ he would do that.

Although finding out they had been dead all along answered that questions.

Leaving his body behind felt _wrong._ If there was ever anyone who deserved a gleaming ship loaded with riches and a flaming arrow, it was Yinson. But he told Tony not to waste his life. To get back to Toothless, and fix what he had created.

The suit fell apart mid air. Tony fell, and falling was something he was used to. But this time, Toothless wasn’t there to catch him.

The desert _sucked_. Tony was once again learning the horrors of dehydration, although at least this time there was genuinely no water. Seeing all that water around him on the raft and  knowing he couldn’t drink it was _hell_.

All he could do was keeping stumbling forward. If he stayed still too long the shifting sand under his feet started to feel like waves and would make him dry-heave since there was nothing in his stomach to throw up.

When he first saw the dark dot moving towards him, he assumed it was just his vision spotting. But this dot didn’t go away, and although it was steadily getting larger it was staying steady.

When he realized what the dot was, he assumed he was hallucinating. That did not stop him from stumbling towards the dot as quickly as his shaky legs could carry him.

When he reached Toothless, he knew he wasn’t hallucinating. Because he never would have imagined him like _this_.

Toothless was _emaciated_. Tony had _never_ seen a dragon that thin, let alone his precious Night Fury. He had been skinny when Tony had first started feeding him in the cove on Berk, but nothing like this. His wings were sunk below his spine, and Tony could see his _ribs_ through his scales. Scales that were so dull and unhealthy they were almost grey. And he was still wearing his flight rig, but it was rotted and rubbing at Toothless’s weakened scales to the point where the scales were just flaking off.

Tony threw his arms around his dragon’s neck with a wild, unrestrained sob. Toothless whimpered desperately, curling his wings around them and tucking his chin against Tony’s back. Tony could feel him shaking, and knew he was trembling just as bad.

“Toothless Toothless Toothless Toothless,” he sobbed. “What the hell are you doing here, oh god, you’re a mess buddy. Jesus, fuck Toothless I _missed_ you.” Toothless whimpered again and his wings tightened around Tony.

Toothless was reluctant to let Tony back up enough to look at Toothless’s wounds, and Tony wanted to stay as close as possible too but he had to try to do something to help his poor Night Fury. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to take physical contact away, and always kept a hand on him.

When he peeled the shoulder stirrups away, dead scales and skin came off with it. The smell that wafted out of the wounds almost made Tony gag. His injuries were so infected the wounds weren’t even bleeding. Pus oozed down Toothless’s shoulders. There was nothing else Tony could do, so he just tried to get Toothless to lick his injuries since his saliva was practically magical. But he was too busy nosing at Tony’s chest and snorting suspiciously.

“Oh yeah,” he murmured, looking down at the reactor. “I got hurt when they first took me. I almost died. This keeps me alive now.” Toothless’s eyes widened and he jerked back so his nose was no longer poking the reactor. Tony laughed a little. “It okay Toothless, it’s tougher than that. My chest will break before the reactor does.”

Toothless huffed a little and - more gently this time - nosed at the reactor again. Tony worked on getting the rest of his rotted gear off, but Toothless kept circling to keep Tony in his sight. Tony sympathized, but that gear had to go.

Toothless’s shoulders were large open wounds, and the band around his tail where the tailfin was strapped into place was raw and as infected as his shoulders. Toothless kept nudging Tony to walk instead of licking his wounds, which was frustrating but if they didn’t find water and shelter soon exposure would kill them before Toothless’s wounds did. Besides, as bad as they were Tony was confident they weren’t life threatening.

Toothless heard the helicopter before Tony did. His head whipped up and he barked gleefully, then shot three blasts into the air, startling Tony. But not even half a minute later, there was a helicopter hurtling by, then Tony was shouting and laughing and waving and Toothless was roaring and they were both stumbling forward, Tony weak enough that it was almost impossible to drag his prosthetic through the sand. But there was Rhodey, and he had never looked so gorgeous.

He grabbed Tony and hugged him so tight that it hurt, but it was a good hurt and his other arm was around Toothless, and the three of them were just a sappy triangle of tears and relief.

Most people would think it was finally over, but Tony knew the next chapter of his life was just beginning.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the way the vote went led this part of the story to follow at lot closer to the way it in in the movie than I had originally planned since Tony still had to make the suit. Hopefully it came out okay. I also wrote most of this in the early hours of the morning so I'm not sure about it, but I didn't want to just sit on this chapter and overthink it, so I just threw it out to you guys and hope for the best!


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you EchoMoonstone for betaing!

Toothless refused to let the doctor Rhodey brought touch him. Which honestly, didn’t really surprised Tony. It probably didn’t really help that Tony didn’t let the doctor touch him either. But now he not only had his scars to keep hidden, but the Arc Reactor too.

Still, he took the doctor’s advice on what to do with Toothless’s infected wounds. So he soaked some gauze in saline and packed it into Toothless’s open shoulder wounds in what the doctor called a “wet-to-dry bandage”, then covered it with dry gauze and medical tape. The point was so the wet gauze would attach to the dead flesh so it could be pulled out. Then hopefully Toothless’s saliva would be enough to close the wounds, since Tony had no idea how to get a needle through Toothless’s scales - the ones left anyway - to sew the edges together. Then he wrapped the raw band around Toothless’s tail so that it wasn’t exposed to the more bacteria, and so that the public wouldn’t freak out at how awful the injuries looked.

Tony himself only allowed them to put an IV in his arm to rehydrate him. Usually, he would worry about being tranqed in this situation, but with Toothless guarding his right and Rhodey his left, he was feeling pretty safe. The safest he’d felt in months.

He had burns on his shoulders from the sun, but he would have to take his shirt off to let them treat that so he decided he’d manage just fine without.

He went through a quick debrief - shortened by Rhodey’s influence and Toothless’s protectiveness - where he told them that some kind of fight had broken out and he’d escaped in the confusion. Which wasn’t exactly a lie.

Seeing Pepper and Happy waiting for him at the airport made something in his chest tighten painfully. He carefully walked down the ramp, his arm around Toothless’s neck for balance and Rhodey hovering anxiously at his other side.

He waved away the EMT’s who rolled a stretcher over to him, and the combination of Toothless’s threatening stare and Rhodey’s nod had them rolling it away again.

Pepper rushed over to him, and her eyes were suspiciously shiny. “Tony,” she breathed. “Oh my god, what happened? What happened to Toothless?”

He glanced over at Toothless, who was pressed to Tony’s side, helping hold him up. It had been less than twenty four hours since they were picked up off the desert, and Toothless still looked terrible. Tony’s injuries, other than a few bruises and scrapes, were hidden under his clothes but Toothless was a mess.  

“It’s a long story,” he said. “It’s good to see you Pep.” This was accompanied by a genuine smile.

She gave a shaky smile back. “You too, Tony. My job’s been too easy without you there to irritate everyone important.”

Tony’s smile turned hard. “Well, I’m about to irritate them a lot more. Call a press conference. Hey Happy!”

Tony walked past the sputtering Pepper to greet Happy, Toothless sticking to his side. Neither of them could bear to even break physical contact yet.

Happy had brought the large trailer for Toothless, and for once Toothless didn’t protest it and walked in easily. He also had Happy stop and get Burger King on the way to the press conference. He was worried when Toothless didn’t try to steal his food like he usually did, but the dragon did eat plenty of fish on the plane so Tony tried to keep his worry to a minimum. He was pretty sure Toothless was just as worried about Tony as Tony was about Toothless, and the dragon was just trying to get Tony to eat as much as Tony had been trying to get the dragon to do the same.

When Tony and Toothless walked out of the trailer, Obie was the first face he saw. He hurried forward with a wide grin and threw and arm behind Tony, as if it was over his shoulder but without touching him. As much as Tony craved a hug right now, both Tony and Obie knew Toothless wouldn’t tolerate it.

Cameras flashed as Tony and Toothless walked in. Even bandaged up, Toothless looked bad enough to shock even the most cynical of reporters. Tony pushed the podium aside and sat at the edge of the stage. Toothless settled behind him, his bandaged tail draped over Tony’s lap. Cameras flashed, and Tony realized this was probably the first time they had seen Toothless without his gear on. Tony waved everyone down, which they somewhat awkwardly complied with.

Tony sighed a little. It had been ten years since he’d been chased from Berk. But he still missed it with every breath. And right now, it hurt more than anything. Stoick would have crushed him into a hug, and Toothless would have let him. He’d have fretted over Tony and Toothless both, forcing them to rest and shoveling food into them as if that could fix all their hurts. The other riders would have visited, Gobber would have come by with lies about his adventures. Gothi would have brought by herbs to soothe the pain, Bucket and Mulch with stories to make him laugh. But he wasn’t sure Stoick could have lived with the Arc Reactor. Even with it embedded in Tony’s chest. And that was a sickening thought.

Obie settled down a couple feet away from Tony and Toothless glared at him, which drew chuckles from the audience. The world seemed to think Toothless’s distrust with Obie was jealousy. But Tony knew better. Toothless knew he was Tony’s first priority and had never behaved with jealousy.   

“I never got to say goodbye to my father,” Tony said to Obie. Obie nodded, and the audience quieted to pay attention. They all thought he was talking about Howard. Only Tony and Toothless knew who Tony was really talking about.

“There were things I would have asked him.” _So many things_. “Things I would have said.” _And now he’d never get to._

He looked away from Obie, out to the reporters. Toothless crooned at him, and Tony reached over to rub his head. “A Viking tribe is led by a Chief,” Tony announced.

Several of the reporters blinked, clearly not expecting that. Tony rarely talked about the Vikings with the press.

“A good Chief leads with confidence, without doubting himself. He knows what to do, how to lead his tribe to success. At least, my Chief did. I’ve tried to run this company the way my Chief ran his village. With confidence. But I didn’t realize that I was acting with arrogance, not confidence. A Chief looks to his council for advice, and I have not accepted advice from anyone. A Chief is held accountable for his actions by his tribe. And I’ve become comfortable with a system of zero accountability.”   

Tony stopped and swallowed. You could hear a pin drop. Everyone was leaning forward in their seats, eager to catch every word.

Tony took a deep breath and continued. “I have not led this company like a Chief. I have have had weapons stolen out from under my nose, and seen them used to kill young Americans. If my Chief saw this, he would be disappointed in me.” And that stung the most. “So, effect immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark Industries -”

Noise exploded, startling Toothless, and Tony rose to his feet as the reporters came forward, shouting questions.

“- until which time I can decide -” Obie rushed over, hands reaching to take Tony’s shoulders, but Toothless snarled and snapped at him and for once Tony wasn’t bothered by it.

“-what the future of this company should be -” Obie was trying to shout over him, trying to talk into the microphone on the podium Tony had pushed aside.

“-and what direction it should take for the good of this country.” Tony cut his speech short since no one was listening and Toothless was getting upset, snarling at Obie and snapping threateningly at a few reporters who were dumb enough to push into Tony’s space.            

Happy was there, a physical shield between Tony and the crowd. The noise was deafening. That is, until Toothless reared up and roared. Then the shouted questions turned to gasps and cries of alarm as the reporters stumbled back. Tony took the opportunity to walk back out to the trailer, and he and Toothless climbed in. Happy secured it behind them.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

There was the expected fallout. Pepper was stressed, Obie was unhappy, Rhodey was mad. But Tony knew they’d come around. Or they wouldn’t. As much as it would hurt to have them leave him too, it was better than knowing he was complacent in the murder of the soldiers he was supposed to be _protecting_.

JARVIS’s voice greeting him and Toothless nearly brought Tony to tears. His bots rushed forwards, bumping him with their arms and celebrating in robotic joy. Toothless - who was over his initial distrust of the bots - happily accepted his own greeting.

The first thing Tony did was gather all of Toothless’s flight rigs and chuck them into the incinerator. Then he pulled up the file for them and got to work. Within an hour, he had them in the fabricator. The new rigs would have the metal parts lined with leather. They would also have small, barely visible stress lines so that if they started to rust or weaken they would simply fall off. It was less secure than the previous setup, but Tony would not allow the rig to hurt Toothless again. The rig was supposed to be a good thing. It let them _fly_.

Then the big project. He started working on suit he’d made in the cave. Only he wanted it to be better. The perfectionist in him demanded it.

He worked on it throughout the day. But his body was still weakened, and once night fell he simply didn’t have the strength to go all night like he wanted to.

But the evening ritual was a terrifying thought.

He didn’t even have flying to look forward to. Not until Toothless was better.

He left Toothless snoozing in his bedroom while he went into the bathroom. His poor dragon was exhausted, sleeping every chance he got. Tony knew he needed rest to heal, and was grateful the dragon got the deep sleep his body needed. Tony turned on the shower, and stared at the running water in apprehension.

He refused to be afraid of it. Even as memories of the cave danced at the edges of his mind. He had too many good memories of water. Of playing with Toothless in the pond at the cove. Swimming with the riders. Playing with Seashockers. Fishing with Toothless. He refused to let fear keep him from something he’d always enjoyed. So he unstrapped his metal foot and stepped into the shower.

He exhaled in relief when the fear didn’t grow from contact with the water. The shower was warm, the pressure perfect. Tony gripped the bar on the wall for balance and washed himself, carefully soaping the scar tissue surrounding the Reactor. Then he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and leaned his face into the spray.

Instantly, he was back in the cave. He choked, stumbled back without remembering he wasn’t wearing his prosthetic. He fell hard, his head cracking off the support bar. He panicked, ears ringing and blinded by the rushing water. Tony thrashed, gasping and struggling _he had to get his head out of the trough he had to he had to he was drowning_ -

Tony didn’t notice when the water stopped running, because something had him by the upper arm, dragging him back, and _they were going to pull him out of the water and shove him back in again and he couldn’t take it he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t_ -

Something wet and spongy ran up his face, and suddenly he was back in his bathroom. He looked at Toothless's scared face, and realized he was lying naked on the floor of his bathroom, gasping like a racehorse and his chest throbbing from his desperate gasps. JARVIS had turned the water off and was reciting the time and place. Toothless must have dragged him out of the shower.

Tony let out ragged breath and curled up, pressing his forehead to Toothless’s. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” he gasped. Toothless whined and pushed his head harder again Tony’s. “I’m okay,” Tony insisted. “I can do this. It’s just water.”

“Sir, might I suggest waiting before trying again _?”_ JARVIS offered.

Tony shook his head. “No,” he said. “I can do this. It’s water. I love water. They aren’t taking this from me.” It was bad enough that he could barely tolerate thunderstorms anymore. He used to love them, but when a storm was bad enough the thunder sounded too much like the crack of a whip. He wouldn’t let those terrorists take his enjoyment of water away from him too.

Tony pushed himself up carefully, his hand on Toothless’s neck for balance and carefully hopping over to the shower. He’d had his bathroom carpeted since he didn’t need to be constantly slipping on wet ground while on one foot. He hopped back over to the shower, Toothless at his side. JARVIS turned the water back on, although his silence made his disapproval clear. Tony took a deep breath and let go of Toothless, hopping into the shower and gripping the bar with white knuckles. His head throbbed where it hit the bar earlier. The shower wasn’t big enough for Tony and Toothless, but Toothless managed to fit his front half in. So Tony had the bar supporting his left and Toothless at his right. Water struck Toothless’s scales and reflected off, spraying around the bathroom and soaking the floor.

Tony inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and leaned his face into the water. Instantly, his heart started slamming. Toothless crooned and carefully nudged Tony’s shoulder. Tony focused on the warmth of Toothless’s scales and blocked out the cold of the cave. This time, when he pulled his face out of the water, it wasn’t with panic. He grinned at Toothless, triumphant.

Nightmares were nothing new to Tony. He’d had them since he was a teenager. They had gotten better after he’d gotten Toothless, then far, far worse after being chased from Berk. The cave simply offered his mind new material to torment him with. Tony didn’t even try to sleep in his bed. He curled up under Toothless’s wing. The dragon’s heartbeat was a familiar melody to soothe him to sleep.  

His dreams were as horrible as he assumed they’d be. He saw himself tied to the pole on Berk, his back bloody, with piles of dead soldiers around him. Stoick smiling and shaking hands with the man who’d held his face under water.

Toothless nudged him awake before his whimpers could turn to screams.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The design of the suit was beautiful. The only problem was, he didn’t need it.

He stared at the hologram in front of him. Toothless was next to him, and together they watched it slowly spin. It was tempting to send it to the fabricators. Very tempting. But he and Toothless flew _together_ , fought _together_.

So he locked it down in his private server. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t learn from it.

For the first time, Tony had a power source small enough to carry while flying. Which meant he could really have fun with his flight suit.

The first problem was his armor. If he was going to be going to be fighting on dragon back again, this time against guns instead of swords, he’d need something a hell of a lot tougher than leather. But still light enough to not slow Toothless down.

At least this answer had an easy solution.

He pulled out his collection of Toothless’s shed scales - he had several safes of them, since he kept all of them to keep Southerners from getting their hands on them - and got to work. The trouble was finding a way to secure them to the leather that would be under them. His first thought, stupidly, was to try to melt them. But of course, no matter how hot he heated them, they were still cool to the touch when he pulled them out. They were simply unaffected by the heat.

His next thought was to try to sew them together. But it was impossible to get a needle through them. So he used a drill. It took a ridiculous amount of pressure to even get through the scale, and when he did the scale simply shattered.

Finally, he ended up gluing them. But the glue was his own design, and was so strong the leather under the scales would tear before the glue failed.

The scaled suit was gorgeous. It was skin-tight and had Deathsong amber over the Arc Reactor with transmitters secured to it. The light-orange Death Song amber turned the blue of the Reactor into a blueish-purple color that matched Toothless’s fire. The wings wrapped snugly around his legs without any visible bulges. The wings and the stabilizing backfin had no scales, but were made of the same composite he used for Toothless’s tailfin. Then he ran wiring through them so they would automatically retract and he wouldn’t have to re-roll them himself mid-fight.

He ran the wiring the same way through the rest of the suit. So he was able to get rid of the button on his gloves for his claws, instead making them powered. Then he added an electrical charge to the claws, and small injectors full of Speed Stinger venom. So his claws could double as weapons, either as a taser or an injector for the venom. The gloves, boot, and helmet had the same tiny Gronckle Iron latches to hold them in place that the unpowered suit had, except now he didn’t have to fight to get them hooked since they latched themselves. The helmet got a complete overhaul. It sealed itself airtight against his chin, had a HUD that let him keep in contact with JARVIS, had an air filtration system that could handle minor water depth and, more importantly, high attitude. He couldn’t carry around an oxygen tank so it had limits, but it would filter oxygen out of water and condense oxygen from heights that had thin air. He made the eye and mouth slits the same purple that the Death Song Amber turned the Reactor.    

Then he took a look at the replusers from the titanium alloy suit he would never create. The replusors were too big, and too powerful for his needs. With how large the metal suit’s hands were, they fit snug. The metal suit also would have let him brace against the recoil of the repulsors. So for his scaled suit, he made the repulsors smaller. So they fit nicely in the palm of his hands without sticking out. And while they wouldn’t be able to blow down a building like the full powered ones, they had enough of a punch to stun someone. And more importantly, they gave him some control when solo gliding.

He didn’t use the boot repulsors from the metal suit. He and Toothless flew _together_.   

Tony and Toothless’s first flight since the cave was blissful relief. The new suit wasn’t ready yet, but Tony didn’t care. They whipped around corners, blasted over peoples’ heads and flew over the water. Tony tried not to notice that Toothless didn’t dive for any fish like he usually would have, and flew high enough that Tony wasn’t hit by the spray. They flew high enough to touch the clouds, low enough to make cars honk. For the first time in years, when Tony dismounted his thighs and abs burned and trembled from the strain. He also noticed Toothless flexing his wings and shaking them out as if they were sore. They were both out of shape, but he couldn’t regret the fast-paced flight.

Immediately after the flight, he got back to work. This time on himself.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Toothless was thrilled with the way things were going since they got back from the unlivable land. He had Hiccup back, and for the first time in a _long_ time Toothless was seeing some of Hiccup’s fighting spirit back in his eyes.

The thing in Hiccup’s chest had worried Toothless at first, and at times it did seem to make Hiccup uncomfortable. But usually it didn’t bother his little Viking, and Hiccup kept it hidden under his removable furs so no not-Vikings would see it and try to steal it. The first time Toothless had seen the strange lights in this strange land, Hiccup had told him they were like tiny fires. So it made sense to Toothless that Hiccup had a tiny fire in his chest, just like Toothless had his infernal flames. After all, Hiccup was just a dragon in the wrong skin. Even the Alpha the ruled over this territory looked at Hiccup and saw a dragon, and had let Hiccup into the flock.

He was _very_ excited that Hiccup found a way to wear the scales Toothless shed. From the very beginning, Toothless had longed to lend Hiccup his scales. And now, clever Hiccup had figured out a way to make that happen. Toothless liked seeing scales on Hiccup. Now that Hiccup had scales, fire, wings, and claws he looked more like the dragon Toothless knew he was meant to be.

Toothless was alarmed when Hiccup decided to replace his fire. Hiccup had said it kept him alive, and Toothless didn’t see how he could take it out them. But he trusted Hiccup, and stood by his side when Hiccup took the fire out and revealed the deep hole in his chest the fire filled.

Now Toothless was _extra_ sure Hiccup shouldn’t be taking his fire out. But it wasn’t like Toothless could stop him. And Hiccup was clever, so Toothless would just have to trust that Hiccup would make it better.

Hiccup ended up calling down the fiery female to help him put the new fire in. The not-human that was only a voice in the ceiling was worried like Toothless, but the arrival of the female seemed to satisfy him. Hiccup was uncomfortable with the female in the room while his shirt was off, and so was Toothless. But Hiccup’s back was out of sight, and Toothless kept the female locked in his sight.

Toothless liked the female. But if the sight of Hiccup’s scar made her attack, Toothless would take her down before she could lay one soft-claw on Hiccup.     

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony was trying not to freak out.

The Arc Reactor was in his hand rather than his chest, and Pepper was in the room.

While his shirt was off.

But he needed her help. He couldn’t get his hand deep enough into his chest, and she was his only option. Besides, he was fairly confident she would blame the scars on Afghanistan. It made sense.

That assumption seemed to be correct. Pepper looked him over and her eyes skimmed over the Mark before settling on the Reactor. It certainly tended to catch attention. Toothless was ridgely tense next to him, eyes locked on Pepper with a familiar intensity. Pepper absolutely did not want to help, but Tony had always been good at persuading her. Of course, then she pulled the magnet out, his heart stopped, and Toothless lunged.

The shop was a mix of Pepper’s screams, Toothless snarling, and Tony shouting. JARVIS was calmly threatening to gas the shop, DUM-E, U, and BUTTERFINGERS were spinning in robotic panic. Thankfully, Tony calling Toothless was enough to get him to hesitate before he could really hurt Pepper. Which was good, because Tony’s chest felt like the Red Death was sitting on it.

Tony banished Toothless to his bed, and Toothless’s guilty eyes made him feel awful, but he was literally dying and Pepper’s hands were still shaking. The Arc Reactor snapping in caused all that pressure to ease at once, and Tony sighed in relief, rubbing his chest. Pepper stepped back and Tony grabbed his shirt, pulling it on before turning his back on her and going to Toothless.

He was easily forgiven for his sharpness, and Toothless and Pepper quickly forgave  each other as well, since it was obvious there was no real harm intended from either. The excitement seemed to be enough to take Pepper’s mind off his scars.

Tony and Toothless went out that night to test the new suit. They went out over the water, where they usually tested things that might result in crashing. This time, when Toothless pushed himself to his full speed, Tony didn’t feel like his skin was peeling off, or that he couldn’t breath. The scales completely reflected the wind, which _of course_ they did, otherwise Toothless would have as much trouble with the speed as Tony. The helmet fed him a steady supply of oxygen instead of air just punching him in the face. JARVIS was in his ear, giving him statistics  on their speed and altitude. And when Tony locked Toothless’s tailfin in place and dove off, his wings managed to withstand the speed and keep him aloft. Even his dorsal fin managed, though it trembled dangerously under the strain. Tony might have to rethink that at some point, but for now it did its job.

It was far more terrifying gliding at this speed, but exhilarating as well. His repulsors let him bank without falling, and gave him some control over direction and speed. Some, but not complete control. Toothless scooped him up when he started to lose altitude, and Tony got his leg hooked back up with ease. It was their smoothest attempt at gliding yet.      

Tony felt good. Very good, in fact. For the first time since Berk, he felt like he was making a difference. Or at least preparing to.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Tony went to a party. He danced with Pepper.

He learned his weapons were killing  Yinson’s neighbors. That Obie wasn’t as loyal as Tony had thought.

Tony went back to his house, where Toothless was waiting. He pulled his scaled suit on, clipped his sword to his leg.

Afghanistan was a long ways away. Flying Toothless all the way there didn’t make sense, even with Toothless’s new speed. He would wear his dragon out before they arrived, and himself. So he went to his airport, where he had a number of small planes that had vertical takeoff and landing capabilities. Toothless was not thrilled about the plane ride, but he tolerated it.

The flight took them all day, but Tony could go days without sleeping and still be perfectly functional. So he landed the plane a hundred miles from their destination, and Tony and Toothless took to the skies.

The sun was rapidly going down, and by the time they flew over the little village the only light was from the fires burning on the ground, and the lamps lit. Tony had already planned on using the darkness, and had covered the Arc Reactor with a layer of rubber that was easy to peel off if he wanted to. He would have to think of a better suit for any fights he wanted to do under the cover of dark. He turned off the lights illuminating his helmet’s eyes, and just like that he was as invisible as Toothless.  

Tony and Toothless swept past, staying low enough that they could see, but high enough to be out of sight. JARVIS helpfully zoomed in and enhanced Tony’s view. He could see women and children in one truck, men in another. One man was on the ground, a gun to his head.

Toothless dropped into a hard dive, and the scream of his wings slicing through the air had people looking up, scanning the skies for the invisible dragon, hesitating for _just_ the amount of time they need to get close enough.

Toothless’s claws sunk into the man’s shoulder, and at the speed they were moving at, the shoulder simply _ripped_ _off_.

Screams erupted, and gunfire. But Tony and Toothless were already high in the sky, coming around for another dive. Their next hit took out a clump of men that had apparently thought they’d be safer if they formed a cluster. Instead, they provided a large target.

They landed, and Tony was off Toothless’s back in a smooth, practiced motion. Toothless took down a man that was swinging a gun towards them. Tony’s sword flared up with a _whoosh_ , a streak of light among the shadows. He drove it through the belly of the armed man who looked too shocked to raise his gun. He coughed, and blood splattered Tony’s helmet before the man crumbled. Tony freed his sword and someone finally got around to shooting at them.

The bullets ricocheted off Tony’s scales, but the impact felt like someone had hit him in the ribs with a hammer. Tony gasped and stumbled to a knee. Toothless snarled and fired, the blast taking the shooter’s head clear off his shoulders and exploding the building behind him. Tony raised his hands and blasted his repulsors at another soldier.  Then he scooped up his sword and took off towards Toothless, leaving a trail of Zippleback gas behind him. He swung into the saddle and pressed the initiator at the same as Toothless leapt up, leaving a controlled explosion in their wake. Bullets flew around them as Toothless brought them high and swing around for a dive. They came down hard and fast, almost invisible in the flickering lighting. Toothless swept over the heads of the soldiers and landed gracefully on the other side then where they’d been. Tony stayed in the saddle and let Toothless carry him forward. His sword in hand, they tore through the soldiers. One managed to grab Tony’s wrist, yanking him almost off Toothless’s back since his safety straps weren’t fastened. Tony sunk his claws into the man’s forearm and sent an electric pulse strong enough to drop an elephant.

Then he straightened up in the saddle and looked around, suddenly realizing they were out of people to kill. The civilians stared, some crying, some cringing, some sinking to their knees and bowing their heads. Toothless reared, carrying Tony high above everyone’s head, and _roared_. People cried out, some in terror, others in joy.

Tony looked around, at the bodies surrounding them. The man who had had the gun to his head was clutching a child to his chest. When he realized Tony was looking at him, he averted his eyes and lowered his head.

Toothless suddenly growled and lunged, startling Tony. His dragon reached through a broken doorway, and grabbed a hidden man that was rapidly typing on a satellite phone and jerked him out into the open. Toothless shook him once, but Tony touched Toothless’s head and the dragon stopped, growling low and dangerously as the man screamed.

 _Well well well._ Karma was a bitch. Tony stared into the eyes of the man who had been in charge of his captivity, who had orchestrated his torture. He must’ve known who Tony was, considering he was currently locked in the jaws of a Night Fury. If Tony told Toothless, the man - God, Tony didn’t even know his _name_ \-  would die in pain and fear. But Tony looked around, at all the people watching. Remembered what Yinson had said about what these people were put through. About what he had seen on the news.

Anger and thirst for vengeance was something he was all too familiar with.

“Drop him Toothless,” Tony murmured softly. Toothless cast a confused glance back at Tony but did as he asked. The man groaned, curling in on his mangled shoulder. Tony nudged Toothless, and the dragon unfurled his wide wings.

“He’s all yours,” Tony told the people watching. Then Toothless let out a low, rumbling laugh and launched them into the air. Tony turned Toothless towards where he knew his weapons were, and they dropped into a dive. Toothless fired, and by the time it struck they were up high and coming around again. Again, they angled down. But this time when they got close to their target and Toothless’s maw was lit with screaming fire, there was a low boom and Toothless suddenly backwinged hard, just as something hurdled past their faces. Tony looked and noticed the tank. They must have thermal vision. Or had just aimed for the purple fire.

“Good catch boy,” he murmured. “Let’s take care of that, hum?” Toothless fired, and the tank exploded beautifully, taking out the remaining weapons with it. Tony grinned widely as they climbed high and headed towards where Tony had hidden the plane.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

On the US military base, there was chaos as they tried to figure out what had just wiped out the enemy force that they hadn’t been able to get close to without risking civilians.

One young man saw a tiny dot flying away form the scene. “Sir!” he called, excitement and adrenaline making a heady mix. “I think I have something!”

His supervisor leaned his shoulder to look at the tiny dot, which on his thermal imaging was a bright red flare of heat. He rolled his eyes.

“Calm down soldier. It’s just a dragon.”

The young soldier flushed with embarrassment and got back to work.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony’s phone rang on the flight back. Tony recognized Rhodey’s ringtone, and picked up.

“What’s up buttercup?” he greeted cheerfully.

“Tony.” Tony knew that tone well. “What’s this I’m hearing about the village hit just a few clicks where you were being held captive?”

“Well, that’s a hotspot,” Tony said, still cheerful.

“Funny, Tony. Thing is, locals are talking about a demon coming in to save them, ridden by the devil himself. Said they were black as night and wore fire like jewelry.”

Tony quite liked that description, actually. Sounded very Viking. “Are you calling me the devil Rhodey? And I do hope you aren’t calling poor Toothless a demon. He’ll be heartbroken to know you think so little of him.”

“Be careful, Tony,” Rhodey warned. “I’m running interference as much as I can, but if you start making Toothless look like a weapon the military might try to make you hand him over.”

“Rhodey, you know that won’t happen,” Tony said. “After 9/11, the public adores Toothless. There would be riots if they hurt him.”

Rhodey sighed. “I just hope you know what you’re doing, Tones.”

“I always do, Rhodey-bear,” he answered, and hung up.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *     

By the time Tony and Toothless were back at the mansion, the adrenaline was long gone and Tony’s ribs ached like a bitch. Toothless didn’t seem to share his sentiment. The dragon was still battle-high, snorting and prancing around as Tony winced his way out of his scales and slipped on some sweats. He wanted to replace the damaged scales on the suit, and make one for stealth.

He had only just opened a safe full of scales when he heard the locks click open and JARVIS announced, “Ms. Potts is entering, Sir.”

Tony sighed and peeked up to see Pepper frozen, mouth hanging open. She took in his suit, laid out on a table and Toothless, still excited and full of energy. At least his dragon had cleaned the blood off of himself. Tony’s suit was still a mess.

“It’s not my fault?” Tony tried.

“ _T_ _ony_.” The strangled quality of Pepper’s voice told him he wasn’t getting out of it that easily.

Tony grabbed as many scales as he could carry and dumped them on the table with the suit before closing the safe and locking it.

“I had to do something Pepper,” he said, keeping his eyes on the suit as he poured the glue dissolvent carefully around the edges of the scales he wanted off. “They had my weapons. What was I supposed to do?”

“Let the military handle it,” she snapped. “That’s their _job_. And they stand a much better chance of managing it than you do -"

“No, they really don’t!” Tony snarled. “Those are _my_ weapons Pepper! I know what they’re capable of!”

“What would you have done if you’d gotten hurt?” she demanded. “Then they’d have you again! And Toothless! I can’t believe you’d risk him!”

Tony ripped off a scale with one, violent motion. “Why do you think I’m so incapable of protecting myself! Of protect _him_? I know how to fight Pepper! I’m a Viking!”

“No, you’re not!” she shouted back, and he froze, head jerking up. “That was _years_ ago Tony! And you said yourself you were never good at fighting!”

“Compared to a Southerner? I’m _amazing_ with a sword,” he snarled, trying not to show how much her words stung. She didn’t even know the real reason why it hurt so much.

“A _sword_?” she cried. “You went into that warzone with a _sword?_ Jesus Tony! They have _guns!”_

“I noticed!” he snapped. “But now they’re all dead, and I’m alive! Maybe that should prove to you that I’m not as incapable as you thought!” _Runt_ , he thought. Everyone always thought him a runt, needing to be taken care of, and he was sick of it.

Pepper’s mouth snapped shut. “Well,” she finally said. “If this is your plan, then I quit.”

She whipped around and stalked towards the door, and Tony was frozen with his fingers pressing a scale to the suit. _Another person leaving him_.

“That’s it?” he demanding. Because it couldn’t be. Pepper wasn’t that _shallow_. She couldn’t be. No way his judgement was so off. “You’re happy while I’m drinking my time away, wallowing in self-pity? Happy while my weapons are out _killing_ people, as long as you don’t have to see it? Now I’m trying to fix my mistakes, and suddenly you’re quitting?”

“You’re going to get killed Tony!” she cried. “And I don’t want to have to face Toothless when he comes back without you! _If_ he even managed to get back! Look at what happened to him last time he lost you!”

 _Ouch._  Low blow.

“I’ve been fighting on dragon back for years,” Tony said coldly. “This isn’t new to me. I killed the Red Death! I defended my village from raids _dozens_ of times!”

“Against swords,” she snapped. “Not guns. And you had other Vikings to fight with you. Now you’re alone.”

“No,” he said. He laid a hand on Toothless’s brow. “I have him. He’s a _Night Fury_ , Pep. And I’m a dragon trainer, and a Viking. We can do this. We _did_ do this!”

Pepper ground her teeth, and Tony stepped forward. “We can do this, Pepper,” he said, voice low and pleading now. “I can’t leave my weapons out there, in the hands of terrorists. But you’re right. I can’t do this alone.” Tony set a flashdrive on the table, slid it towards her. “Obie is involved. I need you to break into his office. This will get you past the encryption. Get all recent shipping manifests.”

Pepper stared at the drive, biting her lip. Finally, she took it.

“Thank you,” Tony said quietly.

“You have him,” she said with a nod to Toothless. “But me? I only have you. Both of you.”

Tony blinked at her as she walked out, her heels clicking. Tony swallowed and looked at Toothless. The dragon crooned and nudged him.   

Tony worked, repairing his suit. He finished quickly, and replaced the used cartridges of Nightmare Gel for his sword. He made decent progress towards his stealth suit before he decided to go upstairs and get a snack and clear his head. He looked over at Toothless, and found his dragon asleep on his bed. He decided to let the dragon sleep and went upstairs. He ate an apple and tossed the core in the trash, turning towards the stairs. He heard his phone vibrate by the couch and hurried over the grab it, eager to hear from Pepper.

Suddenly, a ringing sound was locking his whole body up, and Obie’s familiar voice was in his ears as he was eased down to the couch.

“Handy little device, isn’t?” Obie smile at Tony and turned it off before taking out his earplugs.

 _Toothless_ , Tony thought. _What did you do to Toothless_? Horror scenarios played out in his mind, of Toothless dead in his shop. JARVIS was silent, so he was gone too. Who knows what Obie has done. But he if killed Toothless, Tony was going to make him die slowly before finding a bullet for himself.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Toothless woke up, and groggily realized Hiccup wasn’t in the room anymore. Annoyed that he hadn’t noticed, Toothless stood up and stretched, then patted over to the wall-that-sometimes-opened. To his surprise, it didn’t open. The voice of the not-human in the nest always opened it for him. Toothless pawed at the door and barked, hoping the not-human would notice he wanted out. Nothing happened. Annoyed, Toothless patted back to his bed. Maybe the not-human was sleeping. Toothless didn’t think he did sleep, but maybe he was wrong. Either way, Hiccup would be upset if Toothless broke the nest, and Toothless knew he would be back soon.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  

“You know,” Obie mused. “I so badly wanted it to be easy. But you’re like a cockroach Tony. Can’t seem to get rid of you. First, your father’s ship sank. Sooner than I’d like him to have died. Your father was always easy to manipulate. But you were gone too, and I had the company. Then, I get a note saying you’re alive, which helpfully informed me on where to find you. So I sent the team to kill you.”

Tony’s breath froze in his throat. So the massacre really was his fault. They wanted him dead, and didn’t mind killing everyone to get to him.

“Of course, I didn’t know about the dragons,” he commented. “So imagine my shock when I find out you’re back, and with a Night Fury of all things. No problem, I thought. You were already injured. It should be easy to slip something into your food, make it look like you died from infection. But that dragon of yours made that impossible. I didn’t think it would be so clever. Even if I killed you when it wasn’t around, it probably would have known anyway and come for me.”   

Oh god. Toothless had been telling him for years. Tony had just brushed the dragon’s warnings off.

Obie sighed. “I figured there’s no way you could keep the dragon with you forever. So I hired some hobo to try to kill you. I knew he’d fail, of course. But it would make people afraid of your dragon, get it taken away. Then of course, you weaseled your way around that too.”

“Then,” Obie smiled, “you starting leaving your dragon behind on weapon demonstrations. So it was easy to get a contract issued on you. Yet, you _still_ managed to get out of that.”

Obie tisked. “You’re selfish, Tony. You know how to control the dragons, but won’t share. You make that suit of yours, and don’t say a word. Of course, mine is better.”

_What?_

“Then you come home with this beauty,” he smiled at the Reactor. “and still, you’re keeping it for yourself.”

Obie pulled out a cylinder. Tony could guess what it was for. He pressed it to the Reactor, and it popped out with a hiss. Tony’s chest locked up tight, and his breath was instantly harder to catch. Obie yanked the connection cable out of the baseplate, and Tony’s body involuntarily convulsed when agony speared through his chest.

“Ah,” Obie breathed. “Beautiful.” He put it in a case, latched it. “I really wish it didn’t have to be like this Tony. I wish you only killed yourself. But you seem to be good at making others suffer with you.”

 _Toothless_.

Obie walked out, whistling cheerfully.

 _Not as bad, not as bad_ , Tony chanted in his head. It wasn’t. Sure, he had trusted Obie, but it wasn’t as bad as Stoick turning on him.

Of course, Stoick would never have hurt Toothless.

Tony counted down the minutes until the paralysis wore off. He had to believe Toothless was still alive. Surely, Obie wouldn’t have been able kill Toothless. Especially without a suit. And he’d need the Reactor to power the suit, at least, he would if it was designed after the one Tony made.     

Finally, Tony started getting some movement back. Just finger twitches at first, then he could flex his foot. He managed to roll off the couch, which made his chest and injured ribs scream with pain. He dragged himself up, grateful Obie hadn’t taken his prosthetic. There was no way he’d be able to balance on one foot.

He stumbled to the elevator. Sent to down to his shop. Where he’d last seen Toothless.

The door open, and he made it and single step before agony spiked through him and he collapsed with a raspy cry.

He heard commotion on the other side of the room, then the welcome sound of Toothless’s shocked cry. So Toothless was okay. _Thank god_. A warm nose nudged at him. Tony struggled to get to his knees, to crawl.

“Toothless,” he wheezed. “I need the Reactor. The one Pepper gave me.” Toothless whipped around and knocked over a toolbox on his way to the desk, but Tony could care less. He managed to prop himself up against one of the desks, and struggled to get air into his lungs.

Toothless appeared in the corner of his spotted vision, the glass box between his jaws. DUM-E and U hovered in the background.

“Thanks, bud,” he whispered, and smashed the box open.

The Reactor clicking into place was an instant relief. Tony sighed as he finally managed a full breath, and slumped against the desk. Toothless made frantic sounds and nuzzled him anxiously. The bots crept closer and Toothless growled at them, clearly wanting Tony to have space.

“It’s okay bud,” he panted. “You can let them close. I’m okay. You saved me again Toothless.” Toothless crooned and nuzzled him again.

Suddenly, Tony heard his name being shouted by a familiar voice. Then Rhodey was there, pushing past Toothless to pat at Tony, checking to make sure he was in once piece. But the news that Pepper was still in danger was enough to have him pushing up.

He grabbed his scaled suit, ripping the rubber cover off the Arc Reactor plate. He cursed as he wrestled it on, trying to answer Rhodey’s questions as he went. The suit had to go on over skin, and he hesitated with his fingers at the edge of his shirt.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve already seen your scars,” Rhodey said with a roll of his eyes.

Tony stopped dead and stared at him. “What? When?” he demanded, minding racing.

Rhodey shrugged. “In college. You were drunk. Don’t worry about it.”

Tony badly wanted to find out _exactly_ how much Rhodey knew, but he didn't have time. He tore off his sweat-stained shirt and wrestled the suit on over his damp skin. Then he grabbed Toothless’s flight rig and got him saddled and ready to go.

They took off hard and fast. Getting JARVIS back online was easy. Obie had thankfully just used his override code to basically put JARVIS into sleep mode. Last time Tony gave anyone that override. Tony just used Root access to bring JARVIS back, and everything was as it should be.

They arrived just in time to see a massive suit that _had_ to belong to Obie stomping up to Pepper. Toothless’s blast, shockingly, didn’t smash the suit to pieces like Tony was hoping, but it knocked Obie to a knee.

Obie roared with rage, and Tony and Toothless came around for another hit. He raised his gun towards them, and Tony knew he’d have thermal vision with that thing. Plus, Tony’s glowing eye slits and Reactor cover were on full display. He was too angry to manage stealth. Toothless seemed to agree, roaring as they dove. The machine gun built into the suit’s arm whirled to life, and Tony nudged Toothless to abandon the dive. They swept up and away from the raining bullets.

“ _Y_ ou _think you have the advantage because you can fly?_ ” Obie - no, _Stane_ \- shouted. “Well, news flash! I can fly too!” Tony twisted to look, saw fire blasting out of the bottom of Obi - Stane’s - boots.

“Okay,” Tony murmured to Toothless. “Same as always, bud. You and me. We got this. Let's give him a taste of the Red Death’s medicine, hmm?” Toothless rumbled a laugh, and they climbed up higher, Stane on their heels.

Thanks to the new helmet, they could go higher than ever now. The problem was, it got very cold very fast. Toothless was built for it, and he was fine. Tony had wiring run through his suit that kept him at a stable temperature. He kept an eye on the Arc Reactor’s power, but unlike Stane’s suit, Tony’s suit used little energy and he was confident the Reactor would hold.

Tony twisted in the saddle and gave Stane a blast to the face with his repulsor, just to piss him off and keep him chasing them. Sure enough, the blast barely did anything, but he snarled and reached, trying to grab Toothless’s tail. Tony nudged Toothless and the dragon whipped to the side, neatly evading Stane’s grab. He snarled and came to a hover as Tony and Toothless swept around him in a wide circle. Unlike the Red Death, with the technology he had available Stane had little trouble tracking them. Still, Tony figured the same principle applied. One big enemy trying to catch the little ones. Tony just hoped he didn’t lose a foot this time. Obie fired a tracking missile at them and Toothless dove hard, then twisted sharply and fired straight at it. It exploded, and the blast sent them tumbling a few feet before they straightened out. The heat was nothing to their scales. They soared back up to where Stane was trying to get a lock on them, and on their way up Toothless fired at one of Stane’s boot jets. Stane cursed and wobbled when the jet flickered out, and Tony grinned.

“Come here you little worm,” Stane snarled, trying and failing to grab Toothless when the dragon dashed past. Tony smirked. Toothless was a Night Fury, the fastest animal in existence. Stane was even dumber than Tony thought if he believed he could just _catch_ Toothless going full speed.

They dropped into a hard dive, and sure enough, Stane followed them down. Toothless’s wings were pressed to his sides, and the air was pressing against Tony so hard that he was glad he had steel wires inside the leather safety straps holding him in place.

They were getting close to the ground. Numbers ran through Tony’s mind. He was confident in his math. And exactly four seconds before he estimated Stane would try to pull up, Toothless flipped. Tony couldn’t see Stane’s face, but he could imagine his surprise at the unexpected move.

“Now!” Tony shouted, and Toothless fired, destroying Stane’s right hand jet. Tony heard Stane shout, but Tony was too busy helping Toothless get flipped back over. Toothless got right side up and his wings snapped out, carrying them up and away. This time, there was no giant tail to impede their climb. And no fire chasing them.

Tony heard the heavy boom of the suit crashing through the roof of a building neighboring the SI building Stane had been building the suit in. Tony sighed in relief, and sent Toothless down for a landing on the SI roof. He swung out of the saddle and grinned, rubbing Toothless’s head. Tony finally answered Pepper’s insistent calling. Her voice screamed unpleasantly in his ear, but he supposed Southerners weren’t used to fights to the death.

Tony was talking to her when suddenly everything shuddered. Toothless snarled and fired just as Stane suddenly appeared with a roar of rage. He backhanded the dragon hard, and Toothless cried out as he tumbled off the roof.

“Toothless!” Tony screamed, lunging toward the edge of the roof with the intention of jumping after him, but he was abruptly snatched up and yanked off the ground. Tony struggled, feeling like a moth in the hands of a violent child, and Stane roared with rage  and shook Tony hard. Tony could hear Toothless roaring, which meant he wasn’t too injured from the fall, but there was no way for Toothless to get back on the roof unless someone showed him how to find the roof access from inside. Which wasn’t going to happen, since the whole building was on lockdown.

Tony blasted his repulsor in Stane’s face, and he was dropped with a snarl. He scrambled away, ducking behind a water heating unit. He abruptly realized that Pepper was still screaming in his ear.

Tony told her how to turn on all the overriders for the main Arc Reactor that powered the SI building. Because even alone, he was still a damn genius.    

Stane was offering taunts as he looked for him. Tony’s heat signature was hidden by the water heating unit he was behind, so he waited until Stane stomped over the the side of it to look for him. Then Tony ran around the side and behind Stane. He blasted his palm repulsors to give himself a boost and leapt onto Stane’s back. Stane snarled and tried to grab him, but his suit was too bulky.

“This looks important!” Tony sang and ripped his sword through the wiring behind the suit’s neck. Stane roared, the sound blending with Toothless below them, and he twisted hard, managing to get a grip on Tony’s right foot and sending him flying. Tony slammed painfully into the heating unit. He curled up and coughed, his already throbbing ribs now screaming with pain.

He abruptly realized how dire this was. He didn’t have Toothless. He was getting to the point of being too injured to fight. And once Stane was finished with him, he’d go after Toothless. And grounded, Toothless wouldn’t be able to defend himself.

Tony rolled into a ball as bullets flew around him. He’d torn out Stane’s targeting system, and the asshole couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn on his own. Tony had shot a Night Fury out of a dark sky with shitty, untested equipment when he was fifteen.

“Pepper,” he whispered. “Press the button.”

“What?” she demanded. “But you’re not off the roof!”

“I know!” he hissed. Stane laughed and fired a missile, which hit the water heating unit and send boiling hot water spraying over Tony. It didn’t nothing against his scales.

“I’m not going to be. Just, press it and get Toothless away! Whatever you have to do, even if you have to lie and tell him you know how to get him to me.”

“Tony -”

Before he could snarl at her to _just do it already_ , hell suddenly rained out of the sky.

A green Nightmare slammed into Stane, and five thousand pounds of dragon plus all the momentum it had was enough to drive Stane to the ground. A purple Nadder landed on the suit’s leg, a black Gronckle on his back, a blue Snafflefang on one arm, and more, more dragons, and now Stane was screaming and metal was squealing as the wild dragons ripped into the suit, and Tony scrambled back, trying to get some distance in case Stane got a shot off or the suit malfunctioned while the dragons worked on tearing it to pieces.

“Tony!” Pepper screamed in his ear. “What’s happening! Do I still need to press the button?”

“No,” Tony managed. “No, power the Reactor back down. It’s over.” He cut the call before Pepper could ask more questions, although surely she could hear the dragons snarling and Stane screaming. The high-pitched scream of metal changed to a wet squelch of flesh, and Stane’s screams increased in pitch.

The roof access door slammed open, and Toothless bounded across the roof towards him with Pepper hot on his heels. Tony didn’t bother questioning how she ended the lockdown.   

Toothless curled around him, and Tony hid his face against his shoulder like a child, grateful that his dragon was okay and it was over.

And it was over. Which a wet crunch, the screams suddenly cut off. But the dragons didn’t stop. They were just playing now, investigating as they ripped Stane apart.

“Tony,” Pepper gasped, crouching next to him in her ridiculous high heels. “You have to stop them. Jesus, are they eating him?”

“No,” Tony mumbled into Toothless’s shoulder. “Humans don’t taste good.”

Eventually the dragons got bored, and came over to investigate Tony. And Tony realized he knew these dragons. They were from the Nest. He knew there were no dragons in the area when the fight began, but he wasn’t sure if the Foreverwing sent them. He knew the huge, gentle dragon had a telepathic connection to him, but he didn’t think it survived the distance. But maybe Tony just didn’t feel the Foreverwing's emotions from that distance. Maybe he still felt Tony’s, knew he was in danger, and sent help.    

Either way, Tony was just glad it was done. He gave the wild dragons scratches of thanks and sent them on their way while Pepper watched in muted horror. He tried not to look at the bloody pile of flesh and metal while he offered Pepper a lift back to the mansion, which she turned down. He’d never managed to get her to ride Toothless, and it didn’t look like today would be any different.

He and Toothless flew back to the mansion while the Agents who had been escorting Pepper worked to secure and clean up the scene. Once back in the safety of the mansion, Tony took Toothless’s gear off, peeled off his own mangled suit, and checked his dragon for injuries. He seemed okay. He was slightly lame off his right foreleg, probably from when he fell, but nothing serious. Tony climbed in the shower to wash the sweat and blood off, then wrapped his ribs and went to bed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

There was fallout, but interestingly enough, it was mostly positive. People loved that Tony and Toothless were out there fighting the good fight. For years, they had called Tony ‘the dragon rider’ but now it changed from being a adjective to a noun. ‘The Dragon Rider.’ Capital letters. Tony liked it better that way.

S.H.I.E.L.D, the agency that had been escorting Pepper, was annoyed that they didn’t get a chance to try to hide Tony’s identity, to pretend there was somebody more worthy fighting, but everyone knew Toothless was the dragon fighting, and everyone knew Tony rode Toothless.

It was nice to feel like he was doing something. For the first time since Berk, Tony felt like he was making a difference. And Toothless had always enjoyed battles.

It would be harder, without having the other riders to back him up. But he could do it. He knew he could. With Toothless, he’d do what he should have been doing from the start.  

Save the world.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the wait! Real life has been a bitch, between classes, band, house hunting, and a new job. This chapter was also weirdly hard for me to write. And don't get used to how long the past couple chapters have been! I usually like to keep my chapters between 3,000 and 5,000 words, but I'm really trying to push through these chapters and get to the Avengers. Which starts next chapter! 
> 
> As always, thank you EchoMoonstone for beta-ing!

Tony was dying.

Toothless was the first to notice. He was anxious, whining and nudging at Tony constantly, pacing around the shop instead of napping like he usually did. At first, Tony didn’t understand why. Sure, maybe he wasn’t quite at the top of his game. He had a bug, it happens. Toothless had never worried over him to this extent when he got a cold before. Sure, the headache wasn’t going away. But he was often sleep deprived, usually dehydrated, almost always stressed. Sure, he was constantly tired, even right after waking up. But he often had nightmares. Sure, his body ached like he had just faced off with a Catastrophic Quaken and lost. But he was missing part of his leg and a large part of his sternum. Sure, he was constantly nauseous, and often had to duck out of meetings to be sick. He was losing weight, and he was starting to look like the skinny fourteen year old that had been rescued off the open ocean again. And he _hated_ it.

That was what eventually convinced him to let JARVIS run his scans.

Toothless sat next to him as he stared at the screen in front of him. Heavy metal poisoning. Palladium, to be specific. He supposed part of him had known all along. It was inevitable. He had placed a large device in his chest that depended on a toxic element to function. But he didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to acknowledge that he was dying. And this time, there was no enemy to defeat. Just his own body killing him.

Toothless crooned and nudged his elbow.

“I’m dying,” Tony whispered. There was no hiding it. Not from Toothless. Even if he could, Tony never wanted to lie to his dragon. Even about this.

Toothless eyes widened, and he nudged Tony again, harder this time.

“If I take it out, I die now,” Tony whispered. “If I leave it in, I die later.”

Toothless made an awful noise, one Tony had never heard from him before. He seemed to crumble into himself, his wings falling and head dropping to Tony’s lap as his legs seemed to fall out from under him. Toothless made that sound again. A low moan just on the edge of Tony’s hearing. Tony wrapped his arms around Toothless’s head, lowered his head to press his brow to the back of Toothless’s neck. Toothless’s heartbreak made Tony’s own eyes tear up, and he let them fall against Toothless scales. He knew Toothless wouldn’t mind Tony taking just a little selfish comfort. Toothless was taking his own even as he offered it in return.

Tony slid out of his chair, down to the floor without dislodging Toothless. He didn’t know how long they sat like that. It was impossible to wrap his head around the idea that he wouldn’t have this for much longer. That he’d die, and leave Toothless by himself. He didn’t believe in God, or the Viking gods. He didn’t believe there would be a paradise in the sky waiting for him, or a huge palace full of Vikings. He fully expected a void. And maybe that was best, selfishly. He wouldn’t be able to miss Toothless if there was simply nothing. But that meant he wouldn’t have the memories of Toothless either. Memories of playing in the pond at the cove. Of Tony and Toothless, Astrid and Stormfly chasing each other through the sky. Of Toothless standing at his side while Tony trembled and forced himself into the pool at the mansion. Of slowly getting a handle on that fear, only possible with Toothless’s support and love. Of his scales, lit a brilliant blue while Tony hung from a post, back flayed raw. Of them tearing through the skies, hearing to the cheers of civilians but only listening to each other. Of them curled up in front of the fire, Stoick’s thundering snores a familiar white noise to soothe them to sleep, warm and safe. Of Toothless and Rhodey wrestling in the living room of his college house. Of long nights filled with nightmares, curled under the wing of his dragon, Toothless’s heartbeat drowning out the sound of the whip still echoing in his ears.

He would try, of course. Of course he’d try his damnedest to stay with Toothless. But he already knew the answer to the tests he’d run again. There was a reason he’d picked palladium as the core for the Reactor. It was the only element that could support such a powerful device.

So he tried. He ran simulations he knew would fail. He studied endlessly, searching for _something_. Toothless was always by his side. If they only had this small amount of time left together, they’d make every second count.

When he wasn’t working, he was out flying with Toothless. Together, they found the last caches of his weapons, destroyed them. _The Dragon Rider_ became as familiar to him as his own name, and was on the tongue of everyone. They mastered the art of flying as fast as a fighter jet, high as a commercial airliner. Tony learned how to glide along with his repulsors, how to bank and boost himself a little more, how to judge when too much momentum was lost and let himself fall, trusting Toothless to appear next to him so he could pull himself into place in the saddle. He took a look at Toothless’s backfins, at how well they handled the speed and how steady they kept Toothless. He removed his dorsal fin, replaced it with a replica of Toothless’s backfins. They were made from stiff rubber and folded flat to his back when he didn’t need them, so they were barely visible.

He needed a ranged weapon, and created a weapon that horrified people, but made perfect sense to him. It looked like a gun, but it was red with orange and black highlights. Designed to compliment Hookfang. Because it was a weapon that shot Nightmare Gel, and ignited it. So it was a flamethrower that shot liquid fire that was practically impossible to put out, much like a grease fire, only more concentrated. It soaked into the fabric of its victims’ clothing, coated their skin, damned them to a agonizing death. Tony wasn’t completely heartless, of course. He only used the weapon - named _Dreyma_ , Old Norse for dream - when he had no choice, and once they were thoroughly distracted by the fire consuming them and he could risk getting close, he was quick to put an end to their agony.

He didn’t tell anyone that he was dying. Not even Rhodey. He couldn’t bear to. It was hard enough watching Toothless grieve, and he selfishly didn’t want to tell anyone else. But it was a hard secret to keep, with Toothless so miserable.

Now that Tony and Toothless were fighting, the controversy over Toothless stirred up again. There were people claiming that this was proof of how dangerous Toothless was, that Tony was using him as a weapon. It made Tony boiling mad, but the public was firmly on Toothless’s side. People either loved or hated Tony, but Toothless was universally adored, the only exception being the older generation whose voice was small and feeble, and large companies who were losing money due to the sudden lack of demand for weapons. Justin Hammer was top of the list there. The idiot was even trying to figure out how to train dragons himself, and he’d had two people seriously injured by dragons so far. He used that as ammunition to try to prove how dangerous the dragons were, but Tony pointed out that he had never said the dragons weren’t dangerous - he’d never told the public that anyway. Because the dragons were plenty dangerous, and no one knew that better than Tony. But only when they had to be. Tony was quick to put up side-by-side pictures of Hammer’s test dummy’s ruined face and a picture of twenty plus dragons climbing over each other trying to get close enough to Tony for scratches.  

Needless to say, Hammer lost that court case and lost a lot of investors in the process.

It felt like the cores to the Arc Reactor were burning out faster. Tony couldn’t go anywhere without packing them, and what felt like a water tower’s worth of medication for treating the symptoms of the palladium poisoning. On top of his whip scars, the Mark, and the shrapnel scars, he now had blueish-black lines crawling out from the Reactor. Physical proof of his approaching death.

Tony was preparing to die, even as he fought it with everything he had. He was donating chunks of his personal wealth, trying to bring some good even with his death. As much as it irritated Pepper, Tony knew she would understand if she knew the reasons behind it. Which only made JARVIS point out that Tony should just _tell her_ then. But he wasn’t ready. He didn’t know how he’d ever be ready. She already knew something was wrong. Everyone in his life did. Toothless was not discreet in his grief. The dragon was always pressed close, and anytime Tony coughed or got sick, the dragon would whimper miserably and huddle even closer. Sometimes he wrapped himself around Tony and refused to let go, hissing at anyone who came close and whining into Tony’s hair.

One day, when Toothless nudged Tony awake for their morning flight, Tony’s chest seized up with pain and he found himself coughing so hard it felt like the shrapnel was _moving_ , although he knew that was impossible. But he couldn’t go flying.

Tony built the automatic tailfin again. When he walked towards Toothless with it, the dragon hissed furiously and backed away, eyes wide with horror.

“Come on, Toothless!” Tony pleaded. “I’m getting worse, we both know it! I couldn’t fly this morning, and at some point I won’t ever be able to again! You _need_ to fly!”

Toothless growled and yanked his tail away when Tony reached for it.

“Well, are you going to pick another rider then?” Tony demanded. “The Vikings aren’t here, Pepper won’t ride you, so who? Rhodey?” That .. would actually make a lot of sense. Toothless had adored Rhodey from day one, Rhodey hadn’t been afraid of Toothless even in the beginning, and Rhodey already led a dangerous life and clearly was comfortable with it. 

But Toothless growled at the suggestion, laying his ear plates back and narrowing his eyes at Tony.

“Well, then what do you want to do?” Tony demanded. It hurt to think he wouldn’t be able to ride Toothless, but there was no point in pretending that day wasn’t coming. And he refused to leave Toothless stranded on the ground.

Toothless refused to even listen to Tony anymore. Turning his back and sitting on his tailfins like a brat so Tony couldn’t reach them. All Tony could do was put the tailfin in a drawer and make sure that when the time came, JARVIS would tell Pepper and Rhodey where it was and how to put it on.

He upped his dose of medication, past the recommended dosage. But he refused to spend his final days grounded.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

He made Pepper CEO.

He had been a shitty business owner anyway, and all he did was make it harder for Pepper to do his job for him. So he might as well just give her the reins.

He tried to make it big deal out of it. Ordered champagne, tried to get her to sit and drink. But when he was walking backwards with the bottle, he tripped over Toothless’s tail - who had a pipe locked between his jaws and was playing tug-a-war with DUM-E - and fell on his ass. He managed to save the champagne, but now Pepper was laughing and the serious mood was lost. It was  better that way. More them. He popped the cork on the thoroughly-shaken champagne, soaking them both. She was shocked when he told her, but he knew he was doing the right thing. Even if he wasn’t dying, this was a good choice. While he would still technically own the company, she would run it.

Natalie Rushman was interesting. She was gorgeous, and while she still wore the ridiculous heels Southerner women adored for some reason, her body was leanly muscular in a way he appreciated. She came in while Tony was boxing with Happy. Toothless was in the corner, watching them closely. Toothless had never minded when Tony boxed with Happy, since it didn’t compare to sparring with Astrid. But he was worried about Tony, and it showed.

Natalie was interesting enough that Tony decided he’d rather look at her than Happy, and he took Happy down in a way that would have made Astrid proud, as much as it annoyed Happy.

When he walked closer to her, Toothless suddenly appeared next him, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Tony reached out to shake Natalie’s hand, and Toothless gave a soft growl. Natalie, froze, and just a hint of fear flickered in her eyes. Well hidden and gone in less than a second, but Tony spotted it. Still, most people unfamiliar with Toothless would be alarmed by him growling. Tony eyed Toothless closely, evaluating. Ever since Stane’s betrayal, Tony paid much closer attention to Toothless’s reactions to people. He refused to ignore his dragon’s warnings again. But this was such a mild rebuff, Tony wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. When Toothless reacted to Stane, it was very clear how he felt. And Toothless had never liked it when strangers touched Tony, although he no longer reacted so negatively. Not usually, anyway.

Tony shook her hand with Toothless watching closely. Her hand didn’t tremble, and was cool and dry. As if that small flash of fear had never happened. But it did. Which meant she either had very little fear, which would be stupid of her, or she was very good at hiding it.

Tony sat next to Pepper to watch Natalie box with Happy. He already knew she could handle herself. She moved with the same ease and confidence Astrid did. The confidence that came from knowing she was tougher than anyone in the room. But he did notice that she angled herself so she had Toothless in her line of sight. So she knew he was a threat. Good.

Toothless didn’t seem overly bothered by her, but he was definitely _interested_. His eyes were locked on her and his head was tipped like he was confused. Tony pestered Pepper to hire Natalie as his assistant. He liked her, and he was intrigued by her reaction to Toothless. If Toothless ever decided that she was a true threat, Tony could always fire her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The flame-furred female was perplexing.

She watched Hiccup, and her body said _stalking_ but not _hunting_. She didn’t watch him like the hunting not-Viking that Toothless and Hiccup pounced on together did, but she wanted _something_ from him. That was not unusual. Hiccup was special, and most humans knew this and wanted something from him. But this female was … different. She was afraid of Toothless, which was good. But she hid that fear well, which was unusual. Most humans made their fear very clear, but this female tried her best to hide it. Well, Toothless didn’t care if she hid it or not. As long as she knew that Toothless was stronger and faster and could kill her if he wanted to, and would if she tried to hunt Hiccup. Hiccup’s body was already killing him. Toothless refused to let this female take away a single day Toothless had left with his precious little Viking.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *     

Toothless sighed in annoyance as the small human who thought he was cleverer than he was draped his arm over Hiccup’s shoulder and smiled as if they were flock. Toothless didn’t understand why humans often pretended to like each other when they both knew they didn’t. Hiccup smiled with too many teeth at the man and clasped his paw in his own. The not-clever human had the female with him that had helped the humans of this world accept Hiccup and Toothless into it. Toothless quite liked her. She and Hiccup had rutted once, and often acted as if they did not like each other, although Toothless knew Hiccup respected her and since she had rutted with Hiccup she must like him as well, at least a little. Toothless let the female pet him and ignored Hiccup’s barely-there huff. Although her dull-claws were not as clever as Hiccup’s, they were nice all the same. And she was one of few humans who did not wear the strong, fake scents that hurt Toothless’s nose. At least, she didn’t wear them around Toothless, although he could still smell traces of the fake-scents that she had tried to wash off. But he appreciated that she tried, and it wasn’t as strong as it was on most humans in this world of not-Vikings.

The ember-furred female Hiccup had named Pepper was quick to flee, and Toothless was a little tempted to join her. But he stuck by Hiccup, and if he got extra scratches from the female, well, that was just an unexpected bonus.

Hiccup taunted the not-clever male, and Toothless couldn’t help but feel smug. _His_ human was far more clever than the one trying to pretend to be tougher than he was, and Hiccup was stronger and braver as well. The not-clever human was frustrated, although he tried to hide it under fake smiles, and he was angry too. But he was no threat. He was too much of a coward to hunt Hiccup, even without Toothless there. He was more than happy to wrap himself around Hiccup like a snake, but he flinched from Toothless anytime the dragon looked at him. And as soon as Hiccup’s voice started to darken or show irritation, the not-clever human would flee.

The stalking flame-furred female pulled Hiccup away, and Toothless went with him even as he groaned the loss of the female’s dull-claws on his scales. His shed was coming, and the humans’ clever claws were more appreciated than ever.

Toothless did not like Hiccup leaving him behind, but sometimes Hiccup got ideas in his head, and Toothless just had to wait them out. He stayed curled up by Pepper’s feet even as she complained about Hiccup’s foolishness and watched him on the thing that showed reflections from far away. If Toothless could speak the humans’ language, he would tell her it wasn’t foolishness. His Hiccup was more clever than anyone, but he was restless. They had had nothing challenging to fight, and Hiccup did not want to spend his final days waiting to die. Toothless’s heart hurt at the thought. Hiccup was not able to fight his coming death, so he fought everything else.

Toothless’s head snapped up at the sound of distant screams, coming from where Hiccup was. Humans were gasping and pointing at faraway-reflections, but Toothless was already on his feet and moving, fear tightening his chest. He blasted out the see-through-wall and and small, sharp pieces of it bounced harmlessly off his scales as he leapt through it. He ignored the screaming humans and bolted for Hiccup.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 _Whips._ Why was it always _whips._

Tony stared at the man, his heart slamming in his throat. He cursed himself for being stupid, for leaving not only Toothless behind, but his sword as well. His sword that was clipped to Toothless’s saddle.

He had just wanted to race. To get out of the stuffy room and away from the annoying Southerners, to feel his heart beating in his chest. It didn’t hurt that as long as the news was talking about Tony and his recklessness, they weren’t tearing into Pepper or accusing her of sleeping with him to get the CEO position.

Tony rolled away to avoid an electric whip slamming into the ground next him. The sound of the whip was enough to get his heart slamming and to slick his skin with sweat. But this whip wouldn’t leave scars. It would cut him _in half_.

The man had something that looked a lot like his Arc Reactor. So far, the media had been more interested in Toothless and the fact that he was fighting than in the Reactor. Tony cursed himself for not paying attention, for not keeping a closer eye on people interested in the Reactor.

People were screaming and pushing each other, trying to get as far away from the fight as they could. A lot like when the Vikings had been running from Toothless, that last day on Berk.

Tony gasped for breath, cursing the Reactor and his inability to take a deep breath because of it. His leg burned with agony from Tony jumping and rolling over it, but it wasn’t like he had a choice. He had nothing to fight with, and he couldn’t get close enough to try to fight hand to hand.

Tony covered his head as a car exploded nearby, small pieces of metal flying. A piece of it dug into the flesh of his arm, and Tony cried out as he instinctively grabbed the wound. He looked at the man with the whips as he laughed and raised one of the whips again. Tony readied himself to move.

Before he could, there was the blissfully welcome sound of Night Fury fire.

Toothless’s blast hit the ground between the man and Tony. Asphalt and pieces of car blasted into the air and Tony lunged to his feet, ignoring the pain in his arm and leg. Toothless was perched on top of the chain link fence separating the track from the stands, like a gargoyle. He screamed, and his dark wings spread out around him like an angel of death. Tony scrambled towards him, calling his name. The dragon leapt down and snarled harshly, his eyes locked on the man with the whips. Tony threw himself into the saddle and pulled out his sword. The people in the stands were now screaming with excitement instead of fear, surging forward to see the Night Fury in action.      

Tony ground his teeth against the pain and kicked the tailfin open. Toothless leapt skyward and they gained some altitude before diving towards the man with the whip. The man lashed out, but with Toothless it was pathetically easy to dodge. Toothless slammed into the man, driving him to the ground with a shudder-inducing crunch. Tony pressed his sword into his power source, leaning on it hard and pressing the igniter. His sword flared to life, and the power source blew with the ugly scream of over-stressed steel.

The man’s head lolled to the side drunkenly, and his open mouth oozed blood. Toothless opened his own mouth and pressurizing fire screamed between his jaws.

_Shit._

“Toothless!” Tony hissed, glancing anxiously at the people watching. “Stop!” If Toothless killed this man, the man half-conscious and no longer a threat, the government really _would_ take him away.

Or they would try.

Toothless’s wings spread and he drew his head back, his mouth opening wider around the fire, preparing to shoot.

Tony grabbed one of his ear plates and _yanked._

Toothless yelped, choked briefly before swallowing the fire while stumbling sideways. Smoke blew out his nostrils and Toothless grunted, shaking his head and rolling an irritated eye back at Tony. Police were now rushing towards the man on the ground, and people in the stands were cheering, but Tony could barely hear them over his heart slamming. He quickly dismounted and put himself between Toothless and the man, rubbing his dragon’s head in apology for hurting his ear plates. Toothless crooned and licked at the piece of metal sticking out of Tony’s bicep. It was a sudden reminder of how much pain he was in and Tony winced, leaning against Toothless to try to take some weight off his bad leg without letting people see. He let the paramedics treat his arm but refused to go to the hospital. He snarked and made jokes when they tried to cut his shirt off, convinced them that the sleeve was enough to remove. He let them stitch it up, watching Toothless who was watching the paramedics. Very closely watching them.

Usually, when they fought, once someone was down Toothless stepped away, or at least looked to Tony for direction. Today, not only was he ready to kill someone who was already defeated, but he ignored Tony when he tried to stop him. Tony couldn’t be sure why, but he thought it stemmed from the palladium poisoning. Toothless was scared.

Tony had to go see the man - Ivan Vanko - to find out how he had gotten his hands on Arc Reactor tech. He still wasn’t sure if Toothless would behave himself, but he brought the dragon in the cell anyway. He was done being stupid and leaving his dragon behind. Nothing good ever happened when he and Toothless were separated. And at least if Toothless killed Vanko here, Tony could pay the right people and get it covered up, or claim Vanko attacked him.

Toothless didn’t kill Vanko. The Night Fury prowled the room, eyes locked on the chained man and growling low in his throat. Tony’s discussion with Vanko was as unsatisfactory as he had assumed it would be. It was truly a pity, because the man was brilliant. Even though the plans he had stolen for the Reactor were old, he had modified them to work. And there were few people who could built an Arc Reactor even with plans. If he wasn’t a psychopath, Pepper would be insisting on hiring him. Instead, all that intelligence would rot with Vanko.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony set the plate in front of Pepper.

She looked at the eggs in shock, then at Toothless curled up nearby as if he held the answer, then finally at Tony.  

“Eggs,” Tony said, as if that would clear up why he had decided to make her eggs when she could order a very fancy, expensive meal from the on-board chef. Pepper, without breaking eye contact, picked up her fork and took a bite.

“They’re good,” she said, sounding surprised. “Bland, but still good. I didn’t know you could cook.”

Tony shrugged. “I really can’t. Eggs are a Viking staple, so I can manage that. And fish.”

The word _fish_ had Toothless blinking awake and crooning at Tony. Tony smiled at him and sat down across from Pepper.

Tony didn’t want to go back to California. Back to the press, to his responsibilities. He wanted to take Pepper and Toothless and maybe Rhodey, and go far away. Somewhere where he could just _live_ , without people expecting things from him. He wanted to play with wild dragons, to find new species and explore new places with Toothless. Actually, he didn’t even really want Pepper and Rhodey with him. Not really.

He wanted to go back to Berk.

It seemed horrifically unfair that he would never again get to speak to the man who, in all the ways that mattered, raised him. That he would never find out _why_ Stoick turned on him so easily. Never get to clear his name. Never see Astrid again. Or Gobber, or Fishlegs, or even Snotlout. He’d never again see the way dragons and humans could live together, with none of the uncertainty and fear that Southerners still showed dragons. He’d never again sit on one of Berk’s cliffs and watch the sea dragons and whales play in the distance.

He was going to die in the South, and he would never get to go home.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony was working.

He needed to make sure no one else got their hands on Arc Reactor plans. He needed to be sure he wasn’t going to leave people in more danger than they would have been in if Tony had never fled Berk.

Soon, Tony would die. And when he died, it didn’t seem like Toothless would be taking another rider. So Tony needed to set up _something_ , so that if something like with Vanko happened again, there was someone to stop him.

Rhodey was the obvious choice. He was kind, good, used to combat. The problem was how to equip him to deal with the problems Tony was leaving behind.

Tony thought about teaching him how to train dragons. Rhodey and Toothless got along great, and there was a Razorwhip at the Nest Tony thought would be a good match for him.

But in the end, Tony couldn’t do it.

There were too many variables, too many uncertainties. The military might order Rhodey to hand his dragon over, or to teach them how to train them. Tony knew Rhodey wouldn’t, but it might get him in trouble serious enough that Rhodey couldn’t do what he had to to protect people. And Tony wouldn’t be there to help Rhodey learn how to handle dragon problems. What to do if his dragon happened upon a Blue Oleander flower, or Dragon Root. There were just too many things that could go wrong.

Tony pulled up his plans for the suit he designed after Afghanistan and got to work. It needed to be altered for Rhodey, but ultimately Tony thought it was a good solution.

While he worked, Toothless often dragged Tony away from the computers to sit on him until he ate, drank something other than coffee, replaced the core in the Reactor, took his meds. Tony also made sure to pull his head out of the wires enough to fly with Toothless, and to answer any dragon calls he got. The calls weren’t too common anymore. Tony had relocated enough dragons and solved enough problems that it was uncommon that there was a dragon conflict. He had a sickly Nadder hatchling that was curled up with Toothless, but soon she would be healthy enough to go to the Nest. The dragons were the only thing Tony was willing to stop working for.

Rhodey came in a couple times. Tony knew he was worried. Rhodey knew him and Toothless well, and he clearly knew something was wrong. Tony made sure any incriminating parts of the suit were hidden when Rhodey came in. He wanted it to be a surprise.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“What would you do, if this was your last birthday?” Tony asked quietly, without looking away from Toothless’s miserable eyes. Tony had just been sick, and he was still shaky. It was becoming more and more obvious how little time he had.

Natalie leaned against the desk next to him, her body angled to keep an eye on Toothless.

She hummed softly. “I’d probably do whatever I wanted,” she murmured. “With whoever I wanted to do it with.” She reached out to straighten his collar, and Toothless rumbled threateningly. Her hand flinched back, so slight Tony wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t looking for it. He still didn’t understand them. Toothless didn’t treat her like he treated Stane, but he didn’t seem comfortable with her either. And she certainly wasn’t comfortable with him, no matter how well she hid it.

“Whatever I want, hmm?” Tony murmured. He took a slow, careful breath so he wouldn’t invite a coughing fit and stood up. “Cancel the party,” he told her and walked out, his dragon at his side.

Tony put on his leather flight suit, and took off on Toothless. He left behind his phone, his watch, all his technology except obviously the Reactor. He and Toothless flew to the Nest, spent the weekend there. The baby Nadder was taken in by a pair of mates and their nest of hatchlings. Tony spent two days eating nothing but fish he caught and fruit he found, doing nothing but studying and playing with the dragons around him and basking in the presence of the Foreverwing. It was good. Not as good as going to Berk would have been, but better than being drunk and lonely at his party.

Eventually, Tony was forced to return. Toothless was as reluctant as Tony, but Tony’s medicine was running low and he knew he had responsibilities.      

Tony set the suit up in a display case and called Rhodey over.

It took time for Tony to explain the suit, but Rhodey didn’t react like he thought he would. Tony expected grins, amazement, delight. Instead, Rhodey barely looked at the suit.

“What’s going on?” he demanded.

Tony frowned at him, a little hurt. “I made you a one-in-a-kind suit, an amazing piece of tech, never done before, and you can’t even work up a thank you?”

“Something’s up with you,” he insisted. “Toothless is upset, and I saw the video of you guys against Vanko. Maybe the public doesn’t know him like I do, but he was going to kill Vanko. That’s not like him. And the only thing that would push him to that is if something’s wrong with you.”

Tony ground his teeth. “Look, you have this badass suit. Can’t we just go play with it and bask in my brilliance instead of prying into my personal life?”

“I’m part of your personal life,” Rhodey insisted. “Something’s wrong with you. Something that has Toothless scared. Is it the Vikings?"

Tony blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?” he sputtered. “What about them?”

“Are they contacting you?” Rhodey demanded. “I know they did something to cause those scars on your back. And I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I have to know. Are they contacting you? Threatening you? Are you planning on going back, and you’re setting me up to handle things here? You don’t have to Tony, we can protect you. I have a superior, he’s a good guy, I can call him and -”

“What the fuck Rhodey,” Tony finally managed to unstick his brain enough to say. “I haven’t talked to or seen the Vikings in almost a decade. They aren’t evil, what the fuck. I’m sure as hell not _afraid_ of them; they raised me. Jesus, Jim!”

“I know they hurt you,” Rhodey insisted. “That’s why you really left. I’ve seen your scars, and you had them long before Afghanistan, no matter what you have Pepper believing.”

“Maybe Howard gave them to me,” Tony said hotly. “What do you know? You think you have the Vikings all figured out, huh? They’re just these evil barbarians, _savages_ , not worthy of even carrying the title of human?”

Rhodey hesitated, as if suddenly realizing this conversation was heading in a dangerous direction. “That burn on your shoulder isn’t English. I doubt Howard would brand you with another language. Tony, you don’t need to protect them. You -”

“You don’t know shit,” Tony snarled. “So what, you see some scars and decide that’s it, you have it all figured out. Maybe I got them from a conflict with another tribe. I was a pretty valuable hostage. I trained dragons, rode a Night Fury, led the Dragon Academy, was the Blood Son of the Chief. Maybe I did something and deserved it. Or maybe it was a misunderstanding! _You don’t know!”_

Rhodey took a slow, careful breath. “I know you were a kid,” he said quietly. “I know that there’s nothing you could have done to deserve that, no misunderstanding to justify it. I know you love them, and you wouldn’t have left unless you had no other choice. And I know, I _know_ Tony, that they raised you to be who you are. I know you’re grateful to them.”

“Then stop blaming everything on them,” Tony snapped. “Leave them alone. They’re gone from my life, and maybe that just tickles you stupid, but I’d do _anything_ to have them back. _Anything_. All it would take is a letter, _something_ , and I’d leave all of you without a second thought. I’d be on Toothless’s back and we’d go _home_. And I’d _never_ look back.”

Toothless nudged Tony’s shoulder. Tony ground his teeth. “Ask JARVIS how to use the suit,” he snarled and whipped around. The click of his prosthetic was almost unbearably loud in the silence as he stalked out, Toothless following him after shooting an uncertain look back at Rhodey, who was still frozen by the suit.

As soon as they were out of the room, Tony swung into the saddle and leaned forward, urging Toothless towards the exit. Toothless hesitated, and for a second Tony thought he was going to refuse, but he finally took off towards the steps. They blasted past a startled Pepper and Natalie, who were waiting in the living room, and leapt out the door JARVIS opened for them. Toothless leapt skyward, wings beating hard, and they rapidly gained altitude. Tony wasn’t wearing his scales, or even his leather, and the wind pulled at his clothes and tugged unpleasantly on his skin. Once they had enough height to grant them some privacy from the prying eyes below, Toothless slowed down and evened out. Tony heaved a deep breath and threw himself backwards, laying against Toothless’s back. He threw an arm over his eyes, tried to pull himself together even as tears burned. He knew he was unnecessarily cruel. Rhodey was just trying to help, and Tony had been overly touchy. But staring in the face of his approaching death, he was missing Berk more than he had in years. He felt a childish need to unload all of his problems on Stoick, to sleep in his uncomfortable bed and feel Stoick’s huge hand smooth his hair back when he thought Tony was sleeping.

Toothless crooned sadly, and Tony silently ran his fingers over the seams in Toothless’s scales, over the raised scars from the bola launcher.

They flew around for hours. They didn’t race the waves, or see how dangerous of a stunt they could pull off, or go looking for wild dragons. They just … flew. It had been too long since Tony had flown above the lights of the city and just appreciated the beauty of the stars and the warmth of his best friend under him.      

Tony didn’t want to land. Even when JARVIS started texting him telling him the Reactor core was due to be replaced. Eventually, his breath started getting short and his chest throbbed, and Toothless decided for him. They landed and slipped inside the mansion. Tony stayed on Toothless’s back, not trusting his shaky legs. Toothless quickly padded down the stairs to the shop, and JARVIS opened the door for them. Toothless stopped by one of Tony’s desks, and Tony slipped down from his shoulders and dropped into his chair with a grimace. He replaced the Reactor core under the close supervision of Toothless and JARVIS. He looked up, and saw the Rhodey’s suit was gone. So he was out there somewhere, presumably flying around and figuring the suit out. But even though he now had flight, he didn’t go after Tony.

Well, fine. It wasn’t like Tony had much time left anyway. Tony tried to pretend the pain in his chest was just from the Reactor.  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony was getting sick of Southerners and their schemes.

He'd just wanted a damn doughnut. Tony was settled inside the giant doughnut, and Toothless was on top of it with his tail hanging by Tony’s face. Then of course, Nick Fury had to ruin his day by showing off his ugly face.

Toothless didn’t like Nick Fury much, although he didn’t treat him with too much hostility. Although the dragon had made it clear that if Fury touched Tony, he’d have a missing hand to go with his missing eye.

Tony plopped into a booth across from Fury with an exaggerated sigh. He tried to flick some jelly from Toothless’s head without Fury noticing. The dragon, like with all non-meat products, hated doughnuts. But he had a weird fascination with jelly-filled doughnuts, and he always stole them from Tony and carefully ripped them open before rubbing himself against them like a dog on a dead rat. It was weird and annoying while at the same time hysterically funny to watch. But Tony couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed under Fury’s gaze to have his dragon covered in doughnut pieces like a toddler, all the while glaring at Fury with all the pride and danger belonging to his kind.   

Seeing Natalie - or _Natasha_ , as it turned out - was a shock, but it explained why Toothless had been so leery of her. And if she didn’t want to hurt him, that would explain why Toothless didn’t just kill her.

He was arguing back and forth with Fury when Toothless suddenly moved.

It was fast. One moment, Toothless was sitting next to Tony glaring at Fury, the next he was lunging away and there was the ugly sound of a skull hitting tile. Tony and Fury both leapt to their feet, and Tony saw Natalie - Natasha - on the ground with Toothless’s paw on her belly, pinning her in place with his teeth inches from her face. There was an injector on the floor a few feet away, where it must have rolled after Romanoff hit the ground. The woman in question was struggling against Toothless’s grip, trying to get her hand to her belt where she presumably had a weapon stashed. Tony pulled his sword from where it was clipped to his thigh.

“Don’t move,” he barked at her. “Toothless, if she pulls a weapon, kill her.” The dragon snarled in answer, not taking his eyes from Romanoff as she finally wised up and stopped fighting.

Tony suddenly remember Fury and whipped around, raising his still unignited sword. The thin blade gleamed in the light as Tony and Fury stared each other down. Fury had a gun in his hand, but it wasn’t raised. However, there were three other agents in the room with guns all on Tony, and probably a sniper on him from outside. At least they were smart enough to know their little handguns wouldn’t mean shit to Toothless. Tony was cursing himself for wearing his leather armor instead of his scales.

“We’re not trying to hurt you,” Fury said, sounding annoyed. As if Tony was being an inconvenience.

“So what’s in the syringe?” Tony demanded.

“Lithium dioxide,” Fury answered, still irritated. “It’ll take the edge off, buy you some time. Some time to find an answer to your heart problem.”

Tony hesitated, glancing at Toothless. The dragon was looking at Fury now, suddenly interested. The dragon probably only understood _buy you some time_. But really, that was all he needed to know. Tony retracted his sword blade and carefully sidestepped an agent who was still holding a weapon on him to retrieve the syringe. He certainly wasn’t taking Fury at his word for what was in the syringe. He tucked it into one of the numerous pockets in his leather armor.

“Toothless,” he said. The dragon stepped back, letting Romanoff get to her feet. She shuddered once before her face smoothed out and all signs of fear were gone.

“So you are afraid of him,” Tony said, interested. “I thought it was an act.”

“I can handle it,” she said calmly. “If I need to, I can still kill you before your dragon could kill me.”

Toothless snarled, and impressively Romanoff managed not to flinch.

“No you couldn’t,” Tony said dismissively. “He’s a Night Fury. No matter how much you train, you’ll still be slower than him. He took you down just a couple minutes ago, and he wasn’t even watching you."

  
Romanoff had the good sense not to argue further. She might be able to trick Toothless, but if it came down to raw speed she would lose. Something that she clearly, despite her previous words, knew well.  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“What do you know about your dad?” Fury demanded. Tony shot him an irritated look. They were back at the mansion, with SHIELD agents moving around them.

“Howard was a dick,” Tony said shortly, annoyed at having Howard referred to as his father.

“He loved you,” Fury said. “Maybe he wasn’t the best at showing it -”

“He got drunk every chance he got and took his day out on me,” Tony snapped. “He never broke bones, never left visible bruises. I never thought it was wrong until a _Viking Chief_ called him barbaric. Know what that means? If I had never gone on that ship, had grown up with only Howard as a father figure in my life, I probably would have treated any kids I had the same way. So _I’m sorry_ if I’m not terribly interested in how he felt towards me.”

Fury was quiet for a moment. Tony was pettily pleased at surprising him. “I didn’t know he beat you,” Fury finally said. “I do know you were his pride and joy.”

“When did you become my therapist?” Tony asked, scowling at him.

“When you decided dying was better than finding an answer,” Fury replied calmly.

Tony’s temper flared. “I tested every element, every combination. There’s _nothing_. You really think I would leave Toothless if I could help it?”

“So help it,” Fury said. “Keep looking. You remember Agent Coulson, right?”

Tony scowled at the bland agent who was currently smiling smugly at him. “Yeah, I remember.”

“He’s got some of your fath- of Howard’s things for you to go through. Get to work.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Fuck you,” Tony told the projector. Fucking Howard. _My greatest creation_ . It was undoubtedly meant to be touching. And if Tony hadn’t experienced true family, he might have been touched. Instead, all he could think about were all the times Howard screamed at him and threw things and slapped him because Tony dared to touch one of his precious _creations_. Those had certainly been more important than Tony. Even in the tape, Tony saw himself as a child being snarled at and kicked out of the room for touching the model Howard had on display.

Tony leaned against Toothless, drawing comfort from his dragon. At least he would never end up like Howard. The greatest gift the Vikings ever gave him was teaching him how to love, and how to show it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony laughed wildly, staring in disbelief at the projection in front of him. It was just like Howard. Hide his greatest secret in a boring business model. Toothless sniffed at one of the glowing lights floating around Tony, lifted a paw to swat at it. It didn’t move, and Toothless huffed in disappointment.

Tony grinned at him. “I’m not going to die,” Tony announced. Instantly, Toothless lost all interest in the lights. He leapt closer, shoving Tony’s desk back with an ugly screech, and warbled while nudging at Tony’s shoulder. Tony laughed, rubbing his dragon’s head while staring in disbelief at the lights that held the secret to his salvation.

He had to practically destroy his workshop to get the equipment he needed, but he hardly cared. The new Reactor was beautiful. And Tony was on top of the world.

Until he got a call from a dead man.

Truthfully, Tony was ready for a fight. He was full of energy and good battle was always a good way to celebrate. But there were so many civilians. And Pepper.

The new Reactor clicking into place almost instantly eased a lot of his chest pain, although the occasional pain from the mangled bones would always be with him. And it would take time for the palladium to flush out of his system. Toothless was as eager to fight as Tony, and he practically vibrated in place as he waited for Tony to get his scales on. Tony clipped Dreyma to his belt, his sword to his thigh. He put Nightmare gel canisters on the clips down his right calf, put Zippleback gas canisters down the outside of his right thigh. And he was ready.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Toothless darted in through an open door, and people screamed as the Night Fury flew past dangerously close. But that was nothing to the screams that exploded when the Night Fury landed on the stage. However, these screams were of excitement. Hammer was showing off a set of strange looking armors, with Arc Reactor-like power sources. Rhodey stood in his suit as the centerpiece of the presentation. Much to Tony’s irritation, there were additions to the suit. It hurt to think Rhodey didn’t even _ask_ Tony to make any changes he wanted, regardless of their petty fight. Toothless prowled closer to Hammer and drew himself to his full height so that even on all fours he stood over Hammer.

“Where’s Vanko?” Tony demanded.  

“What? What are you doing here? I thought you were, I mean, this isn’t-” Tony ignored him, flipped up his face plate to look at Rhodey.

“You let him touch my suit?” he demanded.

“I thought it was _my_ suit,” Rhodey shot back.

“I made it, you pilot it. That doesn’t mean you let this imbecile mess with my beautiful suit -”

“Wait, so is it my suit or not?”

“It’s _my_ suit, but you -”

Tony gave up on the conversation and snapped the face plate closed. He dismounted, leaving Toothless to glare Hammer into submission while Tony strode up to Rhodey and swung an arm around his ribs, since his shoulders were too high up in the suit, and waved at the cheering audience.

JARVIS opened a private line, easily cracking the security Hammer had replaced Tony’s with. “Hammer is working with Vanko. These people are in danger. We gotta move.”

“What?” Rhodey demanded. “Vanko’s alive?”

Suddenly, the gun mounted on Rhodey’s shoulder hummed and moved, taking aim on Tony. So perfectly timed, Tony knew their private line wasn’t as private as he had thought. No telling what tech Hammer had put into the suit.

Tony leapt back to Toothless, swung into the saddle and kicked open the tailfin. “Is that you?” Tony demanded, already knowing the answer.

"No no, that’s not me, I’m locked up. Go Tony, get outta here!”

As if that wasn’t enough, the suits behind Tony moved, stepping down from their stands. Tony cursed as dozens of guns whirred to life. Toothless took off hard and fast as bullets started flying, whipping through the shattered glass roof. Tony knew the biggest problem would be Rhodey. Obviously, he couldn’t kill him, but he needed to be careful not to let Vanko via Rhodey kill Tony and Toothless too.

“Alright Toothless,” Tony murmured in his dragon’s ears. “Rhodey’s suit is being controlled. JARVIS is working on getting him free again. Until then, let's focus on dodging him and destroying these other suits.” Toothless growled and barrel rolled to avoid a hailstorm of bullets. Tony’s mind raced to come up with a plan. The first thing on his mind, and the most fun, would be to just keep going. Let the drones chase him right to the Nest, where they’d come face-to-face with thousands of territorial dragons and one massive Foreverwing.

But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t lead enemies right to the Nest. Not to mention, the drones were probably covered in GPS devices. Tony never even brought his phone to the Nest, out of fear of giving away the location. The Foreverwing used its telepathy to keep humans from the Nest, but Tony didn’t know if that would work for someone remotely controlling the drones.

Instead, Tony worked on destroying the suits. They used Toothless’s speed and maneuverability to take tight corners the bulky drones couldn’t manage, danced around them and blew their power sources with a plasma blast. They stayed as high as they could manage while still keeping the attention of the drones on the ground. Rhodey’s suit was the most problematic. After all, Tony had built it so of course it was the best. But he had designed it not to be any more powerful than Toothless. So they still managed to hold their own.

Tony took a handful of suits high, then dove hard. At the last second, in a move Tony and Toothless had done hundreds of times, they pulled up hard. The suits couldn’t manage it, and plummeted into the icy water. Much like Stane’s suit, they used flame-fueled jets to get enough thrust to lift off the ground, and in the water the flames went out and they sunk like rocks. Tony made a mental note to retrieve them as soon as he could so that no one else found them and tried to fix them.

Suddenly, Natasha’s face popped onto his HUD. “Reboot complete,” she said. “Rhodes should be back in control.”

Tony grinned. “Thank you very much Agent Romanoff. Glad you decided to join the party.”

“Your vitals look good,” she said. “Congrats.”

“Yes, as much as your beautiful face stills my heart, I’m no longer dying,” Tony said cheerfully.

‘Wait, _dying_?” Pepper demanded.

Tony gave a mental groan. “Peps, that you? It’s a long story-”

“Yeah, one I wanna hear too,” Rhodey said shortly.

“Save it for later. You’ve got incoming,” Natasha answered.

Toothless landed next to Rhodey, who was getting back to his feet.

“Ready?” Tony asked.

Rhodey face plate snapped back. “Look,” he said, and his voice wasn’t coming through the coms so he must have turned them off. “You were a dick the other day. But so was I.”

Tony turned off his own com. “I had some shit going on, and was overly defensive. I’ll let it go if you do.”

“No,” Rhodey insisted. “You were right. I had no right to make assumptions about your life with the Vikings.”

Tony sighed. “Look, you were trying to look out for me. I appreciate it. Yeah, I don’t like it when people shit talk the Vikings, but I could have handled it better too. Now, we have Hammer’s giant toasters coming at us so maybe we can just hug it out and get to work?”

Rhodey grinned and before Tony knew what was happening he was suddenly being squeezed by cold metal as Rhodey yanked him off Toothless's back and wrestled him into a tight hug. Tony let out a strangled yelp and pounded on Rhodey’s metal back.

“You asshole,” Tony wheezed with a laugh. “Lemme go! If someone got a picture of this -”

Toothless got a little too close and suddenly Rhodey had him in the hug too, and Toothless was wailing his protests and beating his wings as if he trapped, although Tony knew if Toothless really was trying to get away Rhodey wouldn’t hold him.

“Know the best part about this suit?” Rhodey asked. “Finally being able to manhandle the both of you.”   

The abrupt entrance of the drones ended their little moment in a hurry.

The fight was long. Tony and Toothless couldn’t get enough space to fly, and what they were capable of was highly limited on the ground. Tony kept careful count of Toothless’s plasma blasts, kept track of the time between them. His sword was limited in what it could do against the drones, and Dreyma ended up being his most useful weapon, although he had to be careful to aim for the power source so the fire could eat through the protective barrier and kill the drone. If he hit anywhere else, the drone just kept coming. Rhodey’s suit was far more effective against them.

Finally, finally, Toothless’s teeth closed around Vanko’s throat and it was over.

But when the drones started beeping, Tony knew he had to move.

Toothless blasted over the city, and the famous sound of his wings cutting through the air had Pepper looking up just in time for Toothless to backwing hard and land roughly next to her. Tony grabbed her and yanked her over the saddle, then they were off into the sky again. He felt like a cowboy in one of those old shitty movies, with his woman draped across the saddle and galloping into the sunset. Only in this case, the woman was screaming and struggling and Tony was cursing and trying to keep her in the saddle, and instead of a sunset they had explosions.

Toothless landed roughly on a roof, and Tony finally let go off Pepper so that she could tumble off of Toothless and hit the roof. Toothless grunted in annoyance and shook his head as Tony dismounted and went to his head to start checking him for injuries.

“Goddamnit, Tony!” Pepper gasped.

“What?” he demanded. “I don’t think I really deserve to be yelled at this time. You were too close to a drone that was going to blow, so I got you outta there. I thought you would’ve like being in the saddle more than in Toothless’s claws!”

Tony patted Toothless, and the dragon took off towards the edge of the roof, where Rhodey was hidden in the dark.

“What, are you creeping now?” Tony asked him.

“I was here first,” Rhodey said, rubbing Toothless’s chin making the dragon practically melt.

“I can’t do this,” Pepper said, staring at them in disbelief.

Tony ground his teeth. The Southerner attitude was still hard for him sometimes, especially when he had Rhodey on the other side who handled battle perfectly fine.

Tony talked Pepper down, who didn’t really want to leave. She was just overwhelmed and scared, and Tony tried to understand that. But it did sting a little when she chose to have Rhodey get her down from the roof instead of Tony and Toothless.

Tony threw money at the city for cleanup, and overall didn’t take much bad press considering everything with Vanko was pretty much his fault. But the city had Hammer to place blame with, and it meant Tony really got off easier than he thought he would. Tony worked to make sure there weren’t other plans out there for old Arc Reactor tech, made sure to find and destroy the ones Vanko used.

He wouldn’t allow this to happen again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“‘Not recommended?’” Tony read in disbelief.

“Read more,” Fury said shortly.

Tony read further down the page, frowning. “‘While Tony Stark’s ability to control the dragons would make him a great asset,  as well as the Night Fury’s strength, Stark’s relationship with the dragon borders on unhealthy. They share codependence, and both overreact when the other is believed to be in danger.’ Are you kidding me? I’m _too_ close with my dragon?”

“Keep reading,” Fury barked.

Tony heaved a sigh. “‘In my professional opinion, if it came down to it, Stark would not hesitate to sacrifice civilian lives to protect the Night Fury. It makes him unreliable in the field, and unsuitable for the Avengers Initiative.’”

Tony didn’t have an argument for that. It was true. Toothless was far more important to him than strangers, _Southerner_ strangers. As much as he hated to admit it, he would not hesitate a second if the choice came down to Toothless or a civilian. If it came down to Toothless or _anyone_.

“We’d like you to consult for SHIELD and the Avengers,” Fury told him.

“I’m expensive,” Tony said shortly.

“We can afford it,” Fury answered calmly.

“Pepper will send you the appropriate paperwork, and the times I have available. You can work it out with her,” Tony shot back. It was better to keep an eye on this Avenger business, even if he wouldn’t get to join. But that didn’t mean he’d make it easy on Fury.

Immediately following the meeting, Tony trademarked the term _Avengers_. Just to irritate Fury.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“What’s the problem, Mr. Stark?” Agent Coulson asked in a long-suffering voice.

They were standing in Tony’s office. Tony waved the thick folder of papers SHIELD had sent him and tossed it onto his desk between them.

“I’m not telling you shit about the Vikings,” Tony said coldly. They could take their little Avengers project and shove it.

“We don’t need anything on the Vikings. We just want some information about their mythology. And you’re the only person who can give us that,” Coulson said, his voice as annoyingly cool and calm as ever.

“Why?” Tony demanded.

“That’s a matter of national security,” Coulson answered.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll find out anyway,” Tony reminded him. “At least if you tell me, there’s a tiny, little, sliver of a chance I might help you.”

Coulson narrowed his eyes at Tony. Tony narrowed his right back.

Finally, Coulson pulled a flash drive out of his pocket and held it out to Tony. Tony took it. “You knew you were going to tell me,” Tony accused.

Coulson shrugged. “No use in giving in easily,” he said simply. “Send me that information we asked for on the encrypted line.” Coulson calmly walked out, as cool and unbothered as he’d been when he walked in.  

The flash drive was filled with videos, pictures, and documents.

Of a man with a hammer that shot lightening, who claimed to be Thor.

Tony stared in disbelief at his screen, then looked at Toothless, who was snoozing in the corner. “Well,” he muttered. “Guess I owe the Vikings some apologies.”

He called Coulson. “Is this for real? Or a shitty joke?” Tony demanded.

“It’s very real, Mr. Stark. That’s why we would like to know as much of the Norse mythology as you can give us.”

Tony heaved a sigh. “A lot of it is definitely bullshit. The Vikings didn’t have everything right. For example, there’s no mention anywhere of Mjolnir being able to shoot lightning or _fly_.”

“So what can it do?” Coulson asked.

Tony threw his hands in the air, despite the fact that it was a voice call and Coulson couldn’t see him. “It’s a _hammer_. Thor used it for smacking things. Occasionally building. Mjolnir is usually used as a symbol in marriage, for building a life together. It’s _mythology_ , Agent, it doesn’t follow rules or make sense.”

“We’d still like to know,” Coulson answered. “How does Thor lift the hammer?”

Again, Tony sighed. “He has iron gloves. According to the Vikings, he needs the gloves to lift the hammer.”

Coulson hummed. “Our Thor doesn’t have any iron gloves. He claims that whoever is deemed ‘worthy’ can lift the hammer."

“Mythology, Agent,” Tony reminded him.

“All the same, send us all the information you can think of. If there’s something you think might compromise the Vikings in some way, we can discuss it.”

Tony hung up the phone, annoyed. _Thor_. For fucks sake, that can’t be real. SHIELD is fucking with him.

But when JARVIS looked into it, the videos showed no sign of tampering, and there was information online about it. Not much, since SHIELD had done a good job of hiding it and getting things taken off the internet. But on the dark web, Tony found a couple videos for sale that supported what Coulson said.

Tony didn’t tell them _everything_. He didn’t see a point in telling them every little story he read in the harsh winters when he was stuck in the Great Hall with the rest of the Vikings for days at a time, when there was nothing to do but read the ancient tomes stored there. SHIELD asked him a lot of questions, mostly about Thor but some about Odin, Frigga, and Loki as well. They didn't ask anything about the rest of the gods.

It made Tony uncomfortable. It wasn’t like these stories were secrets. The Vikings told anyone who’d listen about these stories. And it wasn’t like the myths would be useful in finding Berk or anything. But Tony hated people asking about _anything_ related to the Vikings.

Tony had to admit; he wanted to meet Thor. See if he was the real deal, if he was worth how much the Vikings adored him. Find out if he was really a god, or just an alien.

What Tony didn’t know is that he’d very soon get that chance.


	41. Act III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait, but I warned you guys it might happen! Good news is, the semester is over and I have internet again, so hopefully we can get some chapters pumped out a little quicker. 
> 
> Thank you EchoMoonstone for betaing!

Really, Tony’s life didn’t change much as a consultant for SHIELD. They didn’t tell him anything he wanted to know, and their security was annoyingly good. He could still crack it of course, but he’d need physical access to plug JARVIS in and Fury wasn’t exactly eager to let Tony into his playhouse.

It stung more than he wanted to admit that he wasn’t allowed to join this mysterious Avengers team Fury wanted to put together. Tony didn’t even know who would be on this team or what their responsibilities would be. But Tony and Toothless had been on their own for years, and the idea of being on a team again was intoxicating.

But maybe it was better that Fury had said no. Tony would just end up disappointed when they weren’t the same as the Academy.

So Tony and Toothless carried on. Tony and Pepper played with the idea of a relationship. For the first time since Berk, someone in his life that he had a romantic interest in knew about his scars, and it allowed Tony to finally hope that _maybe maybe maybe_ he’d finally get a relationship that wasn’t a hurried grope in the dark, still partially clothed. Maybe he’d finally get to have a semi-normal relationship.

It wasn’t like Pepper _knew_. She thought he got his scars in Afghanistan, and she was worried enough about bringing back bad memories to not ask him about it.

But they weren’t really growing closer. They fought often, over Tony missing dates, over his fighting, over anything. She almost seemed resentful of Toothless now, of the time Tony gave him. Tony wasn’t much better. As much as he loved Pepper, she was the very image of a Southerner. Skinny, no combat training, no scars, wore ridiculous clothes that crippled her ability to even run from danger, wore strong scents that bothered Toothless - although as soon as she walked into Tony’s bedroom she went straight to the shower to try to wash them off, so he tried not to hold that against her - and she screamed _a lot_. It wasn’t like they’d been in a serious fight since Vanko, but Tony knew his fighting career was hardly over. Pepper was tough as hell in the boardroom, but as soon as there was hint of danger she fell apart. Tony tried not to miss Astrid, with her strength and leadership. Astrid was tough wherever she was. She would never resent Tony for going into a battle. Instead, she would fight right at his side, and they would patch each others’ wounds afterwards. If he ever fumbled over leading the riders, she would step up in his place and hold them together until Tony figured himself out.

It wasn’t fair to Pepper to think like that, so he tried not to. Astrid was the past. She was likely Chieftess by now, married, with a couple little ones running around. He told himself he was okay with that. He wanted her to be happy.

As hard as his relationship with Pepper was, Tony didn’t want to give up on it. It was his only chance for a real relationship, with someone who tolerated him, who knew about his scars and didn’t dig for more information. Someone who held him when he shuddered at the crack of thunder that sounded like a whip, someone who didn’t flinch when Toothless climbed into the bed. Someone who knew that sometimes Tony just needed to _work,_ that didn’t mind him staying up at odd hours in the shop. Someone who didn’t mind having to run his company for him, and let him play with the engineering instead.   

Not that she was okay with all his quirks. She got irritated when Toothless pulled Tony out of the bed for flying, when Tony shook off her hand and ignored her plea to have a rare late morning in bed, choosing instead to fly with his dragon. She hated waking up alone and finding Tony on the floor, tucked under Toothless’s wing rather than in bed with her. She hated his touchyness about the Vikings, his refusal to give her details about them. She hated seeing wild dragons in the house, hated having to wait for them to leave before going to greet Tony, since the wild dragons were always around him and leery of strangers.

In other words, she loved Tony Stark, but hated Hiccup.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When Agent Coulson appeared in the middle of Tony’s date with Pepper, folder in hand. Tony couldn’t find it in him to be truly annoyed. He was bored. Nothing terribly interesting had happened since Vanko, and Tony was ready for some excitement.

He got a little more excitement than he had anticipated.

Jesus Christ.

Captain America was alive.

The man Howard had been searching for for Tony’s whole life until _The Seeker_ went down. The man that was Tony’s childhood hero until he outgrew it. The man that inspired Howard to take off on _The Seeker_ and bring Tony along. The man they had been searching for the night that _The Seeker_ went down.

Tony jumped a little when Pepper ran her hand up his back, and shifted away from her slightly. He heard her soft sound of hurt, but Tony barely noticed it. Toothless crooned and nosed at Tony. Tony leaned into his dragon, craving Toothless’s particular brand of comfort right now even though he knew it would hurt Pepper.

There was more. Tony barely noticed Coulson and Pepper murmuring together. He didn’t even notice when Pepper left, when the penthouse grew silent except for the noise coming for the videos he played.

There was the man who claimed to be Thor, that swung a hammer that yes, had ancient runic inscriptions on it that made his claim more believable. Because the only other people that could read it were across the world. There was also a man that turned into a giant green monster. Tony cursed himself for not paying attention to the news related to that, although the name Bruce Banner was plenty familiar to him.

Tony and Toothless spent hours going over the videos. Watching clips of Thor going up against what looked like a giant robot, of him swinging that hammer, and bellowing in true Viking fashion as he fought. Watched the monster dubbed The Hulk roar and pummel things like a gorilla. That one upset Toothless. Not a lot, but the dragon snorted and shifted to Tony’s other side - away from the monitors - when he came on screen. He read about the Tesseract, about its connection to Thor. That was something Berk definitely didn’t have any stories about. He would have remembered that.

When Coulson called and said Tony and Toothless were needed in a fight against Loki, as backup to Captain America, Tony got a little thrill under his skin he hadn’t felt in _years._

Tony pulled his scales on, clipped Inferno to his leg and Dreyma to his belt, secured refill canisters down his right leg. He tossed some tools into the barely noticable pouches on Toothless’s sleek battle rig, mounted and took off. They hitched a ride on one of Tony’s jets to shorten the distance and save Toothless’s stamina. Although Tony knew Toothless could handle the long flight and still be ready for battle, he had a feeling they were going to have a long few days. Besides, Tony would probably wear out first anyway.

It was dark when they arrived, which was to their advantage. Tony wasn’t wearing his stealth gear, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t looking for stealth.

Romanoff was in a quinjet, but Tony barely noticed her. He zoomed his HUD in on the battle instead as he and Toothless came closer.

Christ, Steve Rogers looked just like in the comic books. Red white and blue, ridiculous winged helmet, gleaming shield. And _rippling_ with muscle.

Tony pulled his attention away before he could get distracted. Loki was tall and slim, holding a strange glowing spear. He was wearing a pretty ridiculous outfit, but then again, so did Thor. Tony spared a moment to be grateful the Vikings had decided not to share the style choices of their gods.

Toothless dropped into a dive, and the sound of his wings cutting through the wind made both Rogers and Loki pause, look up.

Toothless backwinged and landed, light and practically silent in the darkness. The dragon dropped his chin close to the ground, arched his back, and _screamed_.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Steve was not a fan of the future.

Everything was bright and glowing and _loud_. People were even more rude than they used to be, and Steve just had to duck his head and mumble apologies before heading back to SHIELD so he could be scolded for ditching the agents tailing him.

The was a lot to learn, and Steve spent a lot of time reading. He was told by the pretty head doctor assigned to him that there were videos he could watch instead, but Steve preferred reading. They gave him a sleek little device that said _STARKLET_ on the back, told him he could read on that. The name on the back of the tablet got Steve’s heart racing. Howard hadn’t been much older than Steve, _maybe maybe maybe_ -

He was dead of course. Everyone was dead. Peggy wasn’t, but her mind was failing and Steve hadn’t been allowed to see her yet. Not only was Howard dead, but he had died on a ship searching for Steve.

That lead Steve to reading about his son, Tony. And _that_ was somehow the hardest thing to swallow about this new world.

The boy had been presumed dead as well, only to reappear out of nowhere three years after the ship went down. On the back of a _Night Fury_. Of all creatures, the younger Stark found and tamed a mystical beast straight from the storybooks Steve’s ma used to read him when he was sick.

Stark had lived with _Vikings_ for three years. Honestly, Steve was just impressed Stark survived the experience. Steve had learned in history class all about attempts to speak with Vikings, and they _always_ ended badly. The Vikings enjoyed killing, and made no secret of it. SHIELD didn't seem as concerned about Stark's time with the Vikings as Steve thought they should be. It was only three years, but those were important years. Those were the years when a boy decided who he'd be as a man. And Stark had spent them among a very violent group of people. 

The Vikings were much easier to swallow than the dragons. Steve watched countless videos, read dozens of interviews, where Stark fought for the dragons, all with his own beast sitting next to him. Steve remembered - far too vividly - the stories in the newspaper about the people that were slaughtered by the very beasts Tony Stark now defended. He remembered the scientists, the innocent bystanders, all the people killed or crippled by the animals. Steve didn’t necessarily blame the animals, since they were just that - animals. They simply did as they felt they must. But the idea of Stark bringing a _Night Fury_ into the heart of the city, of him exposing innocent people to the creature, was horrifying to Steve. He simply couldn’t comprehend how such a thing was allowed to happen. But a man like Tony Stark, with more money and power than he knew what to do with, _of course_ he got what he wanted. And he didn’t care if that dragon of his, or any of the ones he drew into the city, killed innocents, or even Stark himself. Stark just threw money and lawyers and cute pictures of his pet at the world. It seemed that no one but Steve remembered the carnage the beasts wrought.

But no one seemed concerned when Steve brought it up. They told him Tony Stark had the creatures under control, and that Stark was a consultant for SHIELD and Steve would have to work with him at some point. They told him Stark and the Night Fury were a package deal.

So Steve really shouldn’t have been surprised when Stark appeared in the middle of Steve’s fight with one of Stark’s Viking gods.

The first thing Steve heard was a strange, shrill shriek. It was eerie enough that both Steve and the god, Loki, paused to look up. And out of the darkness, a pure black monster with gleaming green eyes landed, graceful and nimble as a cat. In the flickering street lamps, the dragon seemed to melt in and out of sight, its eyes the only part that Steve could see clearly. On its back, Stark was just as invisible, with the exception of the device in his chest and the eye slits in his helmet, all of which glowed a creepy purplish color.

Out of the darkness, a stream of fire flashed up from Stark’s hand, lighting more of the dragon and the man. The Night Fury dropped its head and roared, a sound that was high enough to hurt Steve’s ears yet somehow with a deeper undertone that made his head throb.     

 _Loki_ , Steve reminded himself, tearing his eyes away from the dragon. _Fight. Focus up, Rogers._

Steve lifted his shield, its weight a familiar comfort, but Loki was already lowing his scepter, and was that _fear_ on his face?

“I do not wish to fight you, dark dragon,” Loki murmured.

Steve blinked, startled by the turn in events. Loki had been riled and ready to fight, and now he was surrendering from nothing more than a growl from a dragon?

“Huh,” Stark said, sounding surprised. “That was easy.”

Steve got Loki bound and loaded up in the jet SHIELD supplied. Stark and his dragon managed to fit as well. The Night Fury was awkwardly crouched on  the floor, its tail bent underneath it, its wings furled in tight, and a sour look on its expressional face. Everything seemed calm and under control until the dragon realized Stark was standing near the back of the jet, leaning against the wall with his helmet off and his eyes locked on Loki. Then the dragon twisted itself around, nearly knocking Steve over and making his mutter a word that would have once made his ma wash his mouth out with soap. Finally, the dragon was turned around and settled with its head by its master’s feet - foot? Feet? Steve decided on feet.

They were quiet for awhile, with only the hum of the quinjet to fill the silence. But it was not a comfortable silence. Stark hadn’t taken his eyes off of Loki, and his body was tense, like he was waiting for something.

Steve shifted, eyeing the Night Fury. It wasn’t like he had expected. It was surprisingly small; sleek and beautiful. Its scales were a deep ebony, that gleamed faintly in the soft light of the quinjet’s interior. It’s acid-green eyes clashed with its dark scales, so they seemed to almost glow. It didn’t have the usual spikes and horns dragons had. Instead, it had a double row of fins down its back and tail, and several flaps on its head. Steve wished he’d read more about what SHIELD knew about the creature. It was undeniably beautiful. If Steve had seen it from a safe distance, his fingers would be itching for his sketchbook.

Instead, they itched for his shield.  

Steve cautiously stepped over a muscular leg and moved closer to Stark. The Night Fury’s eyes locked on him and it watched Steve closely as Steve leaned in to murmur to Stark.

“I don’t like it. He shouldn’t have given up so easily.”

“He’s a trickster,” Stark said, without taking his eyes from Loki. “This isn’t a surrender. He’s waiting.”

“We’ll handle anything he throws at us,” Steve said confidently, staring Loki down.

Much to his surprise, Stark snorted. “I grew up on stories of this guy,” Stark said flatly. “There is no line he won’t cross. No reason to the things he does. He causes chaos. That’s his whole purpose. Don’t assume anything when it comes to him.”

“You think you know so much about me,” the voice was quiet and threatening. Steve looked at Loki, who was glaring at Stark.

“I know _everything_ about you,” Stark said shortly. “You’re a spoiled rotten kid who values _nothing_. You betrayed your family-”

“My _family_ lied to me!” Loki spat. “For years! Lied to me about who, _what_ I am! They treated me like dirt and turned their backs on me!”

Stark raised an eyebrow. “Was this before or after you fucked the horse? Or were fucked _by_ the horse, I should say.”

Loki’s face flushed with rage and he slammed his weight against his restraints.

Steve _really_ wanted to hear how this trickster god responded to that - a horse? _Really?_   What even were these gods Stark’s Vikings worshipped? - but suddenly there was a massive clap of thunder out of nowhere, lightning flashed, and the quinjet shuddered.

Stark and Loki both tensed, looking up.

Steve didn’t really care how Loki reacted. He was hardly reliable. But Stark’s unease made Steve tense.

“What is it?” Steve asked. “Trouble?”

“If that’s what I think it is, probably,” Stark said grimly.

Lightning flashed and cracked again, and Stark shuddered. Steve gave him an odd look, just as something thumped on the roof of the quinjet.

Stark yanked his helmet back on and punched the button to open the drop door on the quinjet. Before he could do anything, a man with long blond hair and a fluttering cape slammed onto the ramp. Stark lifted his glowing hands, but before he could do anything, the blond man knocked him aside with an absent-minded blow. The Night Fury tried to lung up, but Steve was still standing over it and he tumbled back, falling on Stark. He heard Stark grunt’s of pain as Steve’s weight hit him, and Steve twisted to try to avoid crushing the smaller man. The Night Fury roared, and Steve quickly rolled under the seat just in time to dodge the teeth that snapped down where Steve’s shoulder was a split second before. Steve’s heart was slamming in his ears, and he couldn’t even bring himself to figure out what was happening with the gods, or with Romanoff in the cockpit. All he could see were those sharp teeth and gleaming eyes.

“I’m good, I’m fine Toothless,” Stark gasped. The Night Fury turned its nose away from Steve to look at its master as Stark pushed himself up. Through the adrenaline, Steve felt a pang of guilt when he saw Stark’s wince.

Steve had rust regained his own feet when Stark just … walked out the back of the plane.

Without his dragon.

Steve inhaled, but before he could figure out what to do or yell, the Night Fury twisted, wedging itself back around from where it had turned during their scuffle. It lunged out the back of the plane, nearly knocking Steve out with it. Steve managed to catch himself against the seats before he could finish the tumble and fall to his death.

Heart pounding in his chest, he watched as the dark swallowed the Night Fury.   

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony and Toothless barrelled into Thor, full force. Normally, Tony would never slam into someone going full speed. A human body would be completely shattered by that kind of force.

But this was Thor, and Tony knew he had taken harder hits and come out fine.

Sure enough, Thor was already standing up as Toothless landed.

“I do not wish to battle, dark warrior,” Thor said.

“Too bad,” Tony said shortly, tense. He was _not_ happy about this fight, or his chances of winning. Hopefully Captain America would hurry up and get here, as soon as his head stopped spinning. “I wasn’t done with Loki.”

Thor gave Tony an irritated look. “I was not speaking to you.”

Tony blinked. Blinked some more. “Do you know my dragon?”

Toothless shifted under Tony. He was no longer growling, but Tony could feel the tension under the saddle and knew his dragon was ready.

Thor studied Tony, suddenly looking interested. “He ... allows you to ride him?”

“What do you think?” Tony demanded. “That I broke him like a horse? Are you as dumb as the stories say?”

Thor’s face darkened, and Toothless snarled.

Thor glanced at the battle-ready dragon. “He protects you,” Thor said, sounding puzzled.

Tony had another sharp response on the tip of his tongue when he thought _W_ _hat am I doing?_ This was a _Viking_ he was talking to. And he was talking to him like a Southerner. He was repeating his mistakes with Berk all over again.

Tony knew how to talk to a Viking. So he pulled off his helmet, clipped it to Toothless’s saddle, and dismounted. Toothless shot him an alarmed look and curled his tail around, his tailfin pressing to Tony’s lower legs.

“Look,” Tony said, voice soft and genuine. “I don’t want to fight. Toothless, he’s my best friend. I _promise,_ nothing is being done that he isn’t happy with. We’re clearly on the same side.”

Tony patted Toothless’s head and stepped around his tail, moving in front of the dragon. A display of trust.

“Can we just talk?” Tony asked. “I’m sure we both want the same thing.”

Thor studied Tony for a long moment. For a second, Tony thought he’d blown his chance and they were going to fight. Then Thor smiled and held out his hand.

“Yes,” he said. “Let us talk.”

Tony grinned and grasped his forearm in his in typical Viking fashion. Thor beamed with delight.

“Is everything okay here?” Tony and Thor both looked up to see that Steve Rogers has finally joined them. He was standing casually, but his shield was on his arm and ready. Thor dropped his grip on Tony’s arm and shifted into a more cautious stance.

“Yep,” Tony said. “We’re good. Right big guy?”

Thor nodded to Rogers. “Yes, we have resolved our differences without conflict. We should collect my brother, and I would like to speak with you and your people regarding your intentions.”

For a moment, Rogers just looked between Tony and Thor. Then he locked eyes with Tony, and Tony nodded at him.

“Okay,” Rogers said. “Let’s get to work.”    


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you EchoMoonstone for betaing!

Steve stood on the deck of the helicarrier, watching Stark.

The man stood at the rail, looking over the water with his feet shoulder-width apart.   His arms were tightly crossed, and he was ridgely tense. His dragon sat next to him.

For a couple of minutes, Steve just studied him.

Stark was not a large man. Standing at five feet and nine inches, Steve supposed that he was close to average. But most people who fought for a living were significantly larger. Stark was lean to the point where he could be mistaken for skinny. But the weird, scaled suit he wore was skin-tight, and left nothing to the imagination. And Steve could see muscle running down Stark’s arms, the flex of strong thighs. His shoulders were slim, almost like a woman’s, but again, Steve could see the flex of muscle when Stark shifted restlessly.

Then there was that leg. Steve’s eyes flicked down, and he studied the contraption Stark had strapped to what was left of his calf. It looked simple, although Steve had seen the way it rotated itself when Stark got on and off of his dragon. Still, Steve was sure Stark could build himself a leg so realistic, no one would even know he was missing the foot unless he wanted them to. He wondered why Stark didn’t upgrade it.

Steve couldn’t help but worry how that foot would affect Stark in the field. He wished he’d been more thorough when he’d looked through the more recent parts of Stark’s file. The foot would probably slow him down when he wasn’t on his dragon, and might cause him to stumble or falter mid-fight. He had the dragon looking out for him, but any disadvantage in battle could be deadly, and a missing limb was a pretty significant one. And Steve hadn’t even had a chance to see Stark in action. Loki had surrendered as soon as the Night Fury arrived, and Stark was able to talk Thor down. There was little footage of Stark fighting, since he and his dragon usually fought while on the move. Steve had watched Stark dodging Vanko’s attacks last year, and the man had moved pretty decently all things considered. Still, Steve would feel better if he got a chance to get Stark on the mats and see what he could do without that dragon.

On the deck, Stark shifted restlessly, his arms tightening against himself. The Night Fury made an odd cooing noise and nudged its rider.

Steve walked over, eyeing the dragon cautiously as he moved to Stark’s other side.

In a low voice, Steve said “Mr. Stark. Are you okay?” The man looked worse now that Steve was next to him. He was breathing rather hard, and a fine sheen of sweat covered his face despite the cool breeze. Steve worried he might have been hurt when Steve fell on him in the quinjet.

For a long moment, Steve’s only answer was the soft lap of waves against the side of the ship. Right when Steve thought he wasn’t going to receive a response, Stark spoke.

“I don’t. Like. Boats.” He spoke roughly, through gritted teeth, as if every word pained him.

For a moment Steve was confused. Then he understood.

Right. Stark had been on Howard’s ship.

“I don’t like planes,” Steve offered.

As he had hoped, Stark snorted. “Really?” he asked, voice turning slightly teasing. “You seemed perfectly comfortable before.”

Steve grinned at him, pleased to be getting along. “It helps when I have something else to focus on. You know, like a homicidal god.”

Steve knew this was good. Having a good rapport was life blood in battle. But right when Steve was starting to think maybe he and Stark _would_ be able to get along, it all fell apart.

Steve felt a nudge on his shoulder, and turned. He caught a glimpse of those green eyes, of a gummy smile, before Steve was instinctively reaching for the shield he had left with his uniform. Still, he had little little trouble smacking the dragon’s snout away and spinning to the side.

When Steve stopped, feet planted and ready, he found the Night Fury standing next to Stark, the gummy smile replaced with bared teeth. Showing its true colors.

Next to the dragon, Stark wore a murderous glare.

For a long few seconds, they were frozen, staring at each other, with other people around staring as well.

“Come on, Toothless,” Stark finally said. “Let’s leave the old man to his judgements.”

Stark turned on his single heel, stormed towards the doors leading inside. For a moment, Steve and the Night Fury stared at each other, both tense and ready for the other to attack. Then, it seemed some threshold had passed and the Night Fury relaxed all at once before rearing to spin around and trot after its rider.

Steve watched until Stark and the dragon vanished inside. Then he turned and went to talk to Dr. Banner.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tony took some time to duck into a bathroom and wash his face. Once the helicarrier lifted into the sky, Tony could feel a weight lift from his shoulders. The ship was too big to feel the rocking, but even just _knowing_ he was on a ship was enough to make him quesy.  

He supposed he should have expected Captain America’s reaction. He may look young, but he was in the same age group as the people that still cried out for Toothless’s banishment. Still, it was a sharp hurt that Captain America couldn’t understand that the dragons weren’t these vicious beasts. In a lot of ways, Rogers was indirectly responsible for the way Tony’s life turned out. It started as a child, with Howard’s obsession, then when Howard took Tony on that damned ship. Then the ship going down, the Vikings rescuing Tony, and everything that followed.

It was … strange … to look at Rogers and know that if he never existed, Tony would be a completely different person.

Tony went into the room full of this “team” Fury was trying to put together. He talked fast and sharp, putting up all the walls that he hated but needed. He got JARVIS subtly uploaded while insulting Fury, which he thought was quite a feat.

When Bruce Banner stepped closer to join in the conversation, Toothless snarled and snapped his teeth at him. Tony mentally groaned and was about to apologize - it wasn’t Banner’s fault Toothless could sense there was something different about him, and Tony was confident that was all he was reacting to - but before he could, Dr. Banner did something Tony didn’t expect.

He stepped back, hunched his shoulders, and turned his face away to show his throat. Toothless immediately calmed, sitting down and relaxing his ready stance.

Tony felt his world rock around him.

 _“You know how to train dragons?”_  Tony gasped.

Banner glanced over at him, blinked in surprise. “Oh, no,” he said easily. “Nothing like what you do. I just spend a lot of time in rough parts of the world, and I’ve had to learn to avoid conflict with them. Since, you know, a dragon attack would lead to a pretty big mess with the other guy.”

Tony’s world righted itself around him. For a second, he couldn’t tell if he was relieved or disappointed.

Still, what Banner just did was inches away from actually training a dragon. If Banner wanted to, he could probably be petting Toothless by now.

Tony swallowed, trying to pull himself back together. He glanced at Toothless, who was watching him with his head tipped. _What’s the big deal?_ Toothless eyes asked. The big deal was, for a second Tony thought that _maybe maybe maybe_ Banner could train dragons. Thought that maybe there was someone in the South who loved dragons as much as he did. Someone he could share the clouds with, both on dragons, someone who would help him with dragon rescues, someone -

Someone like Astrid. Someone like Fishlegs, like Snotlout, like the twins.

Tony shook his head at himself. Thankfully, the others dismissed Tony’s sudden silence - the upside to being considered an eccentric genius - and had resumed their conversation among themselves.

If Banner could train dragons, that would be a bad thing. Firmly bad. There was a reason why Tony had never taught a Southerner how to train dragons. Southerners were too complicated, as a people. A Viking was simple. Once they offered their loyalty, that loyalty was forever. Unless, apparently, they think you caused a massacre.

But Tony knew, without a doubt, that the dragons on Berk were safe there.

Southerners offered loyalty easily, and took it away even easier. They considered themselves superior to all. Whether it be to Vikings, to their peers, or to other creatures. They would not endanger their  own lives to save their dragon’s.

Thinking of Berk brought the familiar stab of pain that never faded, even after a dozen years. Tony sighed and reached out to run his hand over the flexible ridges on Toothless’s face, ran his hand over one of his ear plates. Toothless nuzzled his shoulder.

Tony finally looked back to the others, and found Thor staring at him and Toothless with that same puzzled look he wore in the forest.

“So, _Sönnungr,”_ Tony said, and Thor’s eyebrows shot up as conversation around them stopped. “What’s with your’s and Loki’s reactions to Toothless? You guys acted like you knew him or something.”  

Everyone else in the room was quiet, watching and listening.

“Ah,” Thor sighed. “ _Sönnungr._ I have not heard that name for some time.”

Tony didn’t reply. He just waited for an answer to his question.

“It is a long story, but I will try to tell it swiftly, as I understand we are pressed for time.” He paused, studying Tony. “You are more familiar with my people than the others here I have met. Do you know Fafnir’s story?”

Tony frowned, thinking back to the dusty tomes he read in the Great Hall while snow blasted outside and kept the Vikings trapped inside for days at a time.

“Yeah,” he said. “Fafnir, he was a dwarf. He took the form of a dragon to guard the cursed treasure from when Loki killed Otter. Sigurd killed him to take the treasure."

Thor nodded. “Fafnir was the first dragon on Midgard. While his corpse rotted, worms began consuming him. These worms became the dragons that now roam this world.”

Tony stared blankly. “So, you’re saying dragons aren’t naturally part of Earth? That they’re, what, an invasive species?”

Thor shook his head. “No. True, if it were not for Fafnir, they would not exist. But they grew on this plane, just as you humans did.”

Tony firmly did not believe that dragons came from maggots that festered in Fafnir’s body. But a lot of the stories Tony once scoffed at had proven to be true, so maybe there was some truth in what Thor said. Still, Tony firmly believed there had to be some science in there.

“That doesn’t answer how you know Toothless,” Tony said.

“I don’t know this dragon specifically,” Thor said, with a smile for Toothless. “But this particular kind of dragon bears the closest resemblance to Fafnir. Fafnir was a great deal larger of course, but he looked almost identical to your friend.”

Tony thought about this. There were some pictures of Fafnir in the tomes on Berk, but they didn’t look like Toothless. The Vikings had shown Fafnir looking more like a winged salamander than anything.

Although, now that he thought about it -

Tony eyed Toothless, with his flat body and triangular head, his wide-footed stance. Okay, maybe he could see some resemblance.

Thor continued. “Many years ago, the Frost Giants sought to take Midgard. My people fought to stop this from happening. A great number of beings fought that battle. Including your dragons. Including, the beasts you call Night Fury, and my people call _Faf_ _akí._ _Fafa_ _kís_ were far more common then. The tales of their power and nobility are still told in the halls of Asgard to this day.”

Tony stared at Thor, then at Toothless. ‘‘They weren’t trained? Or ridden? They just fought on their own?”

Thor nodded. “They were barely seen. I was little more than a boy at the time, and my father kept me from the worst of the fight. But I have heard many stories of how night would fall, and the dark beasts would arrive to set the battlefield aflame.”

Tony grinned, reaching out to rub Toothless’s head as ridiculous pride filled him. He’d always known Toothless was smart, smarter than a lot of humans, but to think of a flock of Night Furies recognizing danger and potential allies, and going _against_ their instincts to fight a fight that wasn’t theirs, was an awe-inspiring thought.

“As much as I’m enjoying the myths, we have a world to save _now_. So if you don’t mind, maybe we should get back to it?” Fury’s voice was irritated.  

Tony let the others go back to discussing Loki, his own mind still turning over everything Thor had just said. He tossed his own opinion in a few times, bouncing ideas back and forth with Banner. It was even better when Tony and Banner got to go to a lab to work, and Tony finally got to escape Rogers’s heavy stare. Toothless, familiar with lab settings, settled in for a nap. Although he still kept an eye on Banner.

He liked Banner. The man had a quiet, peaceful air to him as they worked - Tony supposed he had to. He was one of few people who could keep up as Tony quickly talked through ideas, and even threw some of his own in that were complex enough to make Tony actually _think._

But his attitude about the Hulk sucked.

“I don’t see how it’s that different than having a dragon,” Tony insisted. “He protects you when you’re in danger, right? Same as Toothless with me.”

Bruce shook his head. “The other guy kills people -”

“So does Toothless. Sometimes.”

“ - often innocent people. People who just happen to be in his way. And I can’t control him. Not really, not like you with Toothless.”

Tony studied the screen in front of him, considered that. “I mean, in the beginning he didn’t listen to me at all. We had to build that trust first. He had to be able to trust that if I was telling him to do something, I had a good reason. And in return, I had to learn to trust what he tells me.” Tony snapped his mouth shut. He was getting dangerously close to talking about actually _training_ dragons, instead of building trust. But the two were so closely related, that it made this a rather dangerous subject.

Luckily, Bruce didn’t have enough interest to pursue that topic. “Trusting the other guy. Hah. Funny.”

Tony shook his head. “You know that I was supposed kill a dragon, in front of the entire village, right? Back when I was fifteen, and learning how to hunt dragons.”

Bruce frowned, thinking. “I remember something about that, back from your interviews. I didn’t realize you were fifteen at the time. That seems young, even for Vikings.”

Tony ignored that, stuck to his topic. “It went wrong, and Toothless showed up to protect me. And he had to defend himself when the village came to kill him. At one point, he had my Chief pinned, was ready to kill. And I thought, just for a second, that maybe my trust was misplaced. But Toothless didn’t kill him.”

Bruce sighed, and finally looked at Tony. “So you want to say that because your dragon didn’t kill some Viking Chief twelve years ago, that the other guy wouldn’t kill innocent people now?”

Tony shrugged. “I’m just saying, a little trust goes a long way.”

The door opened, and Rogers walked in. Toothless looked up, head cocking as he crooned. Toothless had something like a crush on Rogers. Made sense, since Tony had one of his own as a teenager. It just made it more irritating everytime Rogers rebuffed the dragon’s attempts at gaining Rogers’ friendship.

Tony _really_ wasn’t a fan of Rogers invading his workspace. Tony didn’t care to have Howard’s precious creation staring at him while he worked, looking for flaws, sneering at Toothless. Tony didn’t doubt Captain America was a good man. Not only did Tony never hear the fucking end of it as a kid, but Toothless was acting more affectionate towards Rogers than Tony had seen him act towards any stranger since Rhodey. And even Rhodey had to work for it.

Frankly, Toothless was far more defensive than he’d been before Berk had turned on them. And that defensiveness had only grown with every betrayal they suffered.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Toothless liked the sun - furred male. He stood with the kind of strength and pride that Toothless respected, but there was an air of _sad-lonely-sad_ that Hiccup had had when Toothless first met him.  Hiccup didn’t share Toothless’s feelings. He hissed and snarled at the other male, purposely irritating and riling, looking for a fight. Toothless knew that the sun - furred male did not like Toothless, and this was part of why Hiccup was unhappy. Toothless was unbothered. Many humans did not like him at first. They knew he was stronger than them, and feared him. Toothless liked knowing humans tended to fear him, as they’d be less likely to attack Hiccup then, but on the other hand, it was hard to share a nest with flockmates that shied away. It made Toothless think of the cruel Queen, how the flock had crept about, not trusting each other because at anytime a flockmate might attack you for the food you were bringing the Queen.

The male would either learn to get along with Hiccup and join their small flock, or he wouldn’t. Either way, Hiccup and Toothless would continue on.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Fury was lying to them. No one was surprised.

Except Rogers, it seemed.

“You’re using the Tesseract  to build _weapons,”_ Rogers spat. “Weapons of mass destruction! You aren’t looking to use it for energy, you’re looking to use it to kill!”

Fury crossed his arms, narrowed his eye. “I’m looking to do a lot of things, Capitan.  Mostly, I’m looking to protect our planet. And that means doing things others might not like.”

“Protect our planet?” Tony repeated. “What, with a nuclear deterrent?”

Fury turned that narrowed eye on Tony. “How did you make your fortune again, Stark?”

Steve turned towards Tony too, and okay, now he was starting to feel ganged up on. “I’m sure if Stark still made weapons he’d be -”

“Yeah, well, I don’t make weapons,” Tony snapped. “I figured out that was a bad plan after being blown up by my own bomb.”

“Oh, so you would still be making your money off other peoples’ suffering if it didn’t hurt _you,_ is that it?” Rogers snarled. “Looks like the Vikings taught you more than people know."

Tony’s vision washed red. He didn’t pay attention to the slight blue tint at the edges. “Like you know _shit_ about them. What the _fuck_ do you know, huh?”

Rogers sneered. “I know they love killing. And I know that you must too, to carry something like _that_ around.” He gestured at Tony’s hip, where Dreyma was clipped.

Tony was dimly aware of Toothless growling behind him, of the dragon pushing at Tony’s side, trying to get his attention. Some small voice in the back of his mind was screaming _look at Toothless! Pay attention! He’s trying to tell you something!_ But something had Tony’s attention caught firmly on Rogers, on their fight. Some part of him basked in the conflict, wanted to _hurt_.

Tony took a step closer to Rogers, so he was right up against his chest now, and he _hated_ how far he had to tip his head back to meet the other man’s eyes. “What, are you scared, Rogers?” Tony sneered. “Scared of me? Scared of my dragon? Scared of what we’re capable of?”

Rogers snorted a laugh, right into Tony’s face. Tony felt Thor shift to Tony’s left side, yet still hanging back. Letting Tony and Rogers have their spat, but ready to come to Tony’s defensive. It warmed some buried part of Tony to have Viking loyalty at his side once again. But most of his attention was still focused on Rogers’ face, still faintly blue at the edges. Tony’s heart pounded wildly against the Reactor, and Toothless was snarling harder now, and Tony really should look at his dragon but his hands were shaking with pent-up rage and frustration, and he just wanted to blast that smirk off of Rogers’ perfect face.

“What, scared of _you?_ ” Rogers laughed. “Little man, puffing up his chest and trying to look big?” Rogers leaned down so their faces were level. “You’re a fake, Stark. Metal leg, metal heart. There’s nothing real about you. Trying to look tough hiding behind a Night Fury. Take your lizard away, and what are you?”

_Broken._

Tony’s claws flashed out with a _snick_. He tensed, started to lift his hand.

Toothless tackled him, sudden and hard. Tony’s head cracked off his shoulder stirrup, and his vision filled with dark spots as Toothless’s wings surrounded him.

At the same time, there was an eye-splitting explosion and the ship listed heavily.

Tony’s ears were ringing. After a moment of stunned silence, Toothless opened his wings. Tony blinked at the bright light, his vision clear of the blue haze and the murderous rage gone as sudden as it had come.

The others were still regaining their feet. Rogers was already standing. Tony twisted his head around to check on Toothless. One look at the dragon’s calm eyes took Tony he was fine.

When Tony turned his gaze back to the room, he found Rogers right in front of him.

“Come on,” Rogers said, and thrust a hand down to Tony. Held it there, right in front of Toothless’s nose. Brave man, after a fight like that.

Tony lifted his hand, caught sight of gleaming metal on his fingertips. He swallowed sudden alarm and guilt, retracted his claws and grabbed Rogers’ hand. Let Captain America pull him to his feet.

“Time to go,” Steve said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I'd be able to update more often now?
> 
> Yeah, me too. 
> 
> In my defense, this chapter gave me a crazy amount of trouble. I'm still not happy with it, but it is what it is. I hope you enjoyed at least!


End file.
